


Collectibles

by Temmy_Silver



Series: Mass-produced [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & North (Detroit: Become Human) Friendship, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Deserves Happiness, Fluff and Angst, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gavin Reed Whump, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson Swears, Kidnapping, M/M, Markus (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Poor Connor, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26323807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temmy_Silver/pseuds/Temmy_Silver
Summary: It's been two years since since Markus's peaceful revolution. The holidays are coming up and everything's going great. Or it should be.An old friend of Hank's makes a haunting return to the Lieutenant's life, kidnapping Connor and sending him bits and pieces of the android each day. If that wasn't enough to make both Hank and Markus worried, it may be the least of their problems. Androids are going missing all over Detroit, and Hank is not only certain his "friend" is behind it, but that Markus is a prime target.
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor
Series: Mass-produced [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005273
Comments: 32
Kudos: 143





	1. Your Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey, I'm finally back, and with that long, angsty Detroit piece I said I'd make! Buckle up, folks, we're in this for the long haul. I'm posting the first two chapters at once because they're both fairly short and expository, but from now on updates will be made weekly. (Although, this fic actually has 11 chapters; 12 is an epilogue that will be posted the same time as the finale.) Happy reading!

_December 19, 2040- 8:37 p.m._

Lieutenant Hank Anderson idly watched the basketball game in Jimmy’s bar, halfway through his second glass of whiskey. His phone buzzed in his pocket but he didn’t pull it out, figuring it was Connor asking if he would need a ride home.

“Want me to top you off, Hank?” Jim asked as he cleaned off the counter.

“No thanks, Jim,” Hank responded. “I should be heading out soon.”

“Man, you’ve really cut back, haven’t ya? I barely see you in here anymore.”

Hank gave a half smile. “Makes the kid happy.”

“Wonders of technology, I suppose.” Hank chuckled at the other man’s statement. He knew Jim didn’t have any ill intentions by it; the bartender had talked to Connor enough times to view him as a man rather than a machine. It was hard to believe it had already been two years since the androids had succeeded in their revolution. Come February it would be the second anniversary of androids being made legal citizens in America.

Hank’s phone buzzed a second time to remind him of the text he’d gotten. The Lieutenant took another swig of his whiskey and pulled his phone out. He frowned at the unknown number, but it wasn’t obscure enough to be a scam. He opened the message, prepared to tell whoever the schmuck was that texted him that they had the wrong person.

But what he read brought him a new, stronger wave of confusion, and the back of his throat seemed to dry up and tighten.

_-Hey there, Andy._

Hank must have stared at the message for a full minute, debating if he should feign ignorance. But only one person had ever called him “Andy,” and he wouldn’t be fooled by a response of “who is this” or “sorry, I think you have the wrong number.” Instead, with hands that were shaking ever so slightly, Hank typed:

_-victor?_

A reply came back seconds after Hank hit send.

_-It’s been too long, my friend, too long._

_-i thought you were serving time?_

_-Time served, Andy. Although I was let out a tad bit early with a few favors I called in and all that ruckus those robots were causing._

Once again, Hank was overwhelmed with confusion. Victor was out of prison? Had _been_ out? Hank stood, throwing some money on the counter and abandoning the remainder of his drink. He grunted as Jim wished him a merry Christmas, then started to make his way to his car. Questions raced through his mind, but he finally settled on writing:

_-what do you want? why are you contacting me now?_

_-Never one to beat around the bush, were you, Andy? Not that I mind; it’s what I like about you. Figured I’d set up a little reunion. You, me, and Jeff._

Hank swallowed. Once upon a time, he had called this man his friend, but now Victor was just another memory he would rather forget about. The Lieutenant got into his car and steeled himself.

_-i don't want to see your ugly mug ever again_

_-Temper, Andy. Don’t you go sideways on me, now._

_-i’ll go sideways on whoever I damn well please, now fuck off_

When no reply came in the next minute, Hank sighed and put his phone back in his pocket. Willing himself not to go straight back into Jimmy’s bar after that encounter, however brief, Hank started up the engine. He was about to pull away when his phone dinged once again. Hank shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, sighing. He pulled out his phone, and a quick check revealed that same unknown number. He thought about ignoring it, but Hank knew that Victor wouldn’t back off so easily, so he opened the message.

_-Your android played a big part in that ruckus, didn’t it? What was its name? Conrad or something? It suits you. Real shiny._

Hank felt his breath hitch.

_-I can invite it to our reunion too, if you’d like._

_-leave connor out of this_

_-I’m afraid you’re the one who brought it into this, Andy._

Hank swore loudly. As he stepped on the gas and pulled out into the street, he brought up Connor in his contacts. The call went to voicemail and Hank swore again. He knew that Connor should have gotten home from work by now, and that the most he could be doing was reading.

“Damn it, Connor, pick up your brain phone!” Hank yelled into the receiver as he drove through a stop sign. “I’m coming to your apartment. Shut off the lights and don’t open the door for anyone but me!”

He hung up the phone and tossed it into the passenger’s seat. Breaking more than a few traffic laws, he managed to get to the apartment complex Connor lived at in two minutes. Hank didn’t process the people he shoved out of the way or the exertion of racing up the stairs to the fourth floor, but he did try to sell himself excuses as to why the android hadn’t answered the phone directly linked to his head. Maybe Connor was in rest mode, or he had Markus over for company. Skidding to a halt outside Connor’s door, however, the Lieutenant realised that neither of those scenarios were the case.

A simple push at the door’s handle had it swinging open easily, and Hank’s heart sank as he wandered into the apartment. Connor didn’t have much furniture in his one-room apartment, but he did have a simple dining room table. On it sat a small, gift-wrapped box and a folded note that had “To Andy” scribbled on the front. Feeling as though he were watching someone else move his limbs, Hank took the note and opened it, reading the cursive handwriting inside.

_Dear Andy,_

_Don’t you just love the Christmas season? A time for giving to those we love. And this year, I’ll be giving you a piece of the android you love every day until the holiday is over. Now I know you’re a bit impatient and would rather have the whole gift now instead of bit by bit (and I’m sure that’s what your robot would prefer, too), so maybe you’ll be able to put those police skills to work in order to speed the process along. You have until 11:59 p.m. on December 25 to find it, or it’ll be permanently irreparable. Happy holidays, Andy!_

_Your old friend,_

_Victor_

That constricting feeling in Hank’s throat came back halfway into reading the note. He tried his best to swallow and tossed the note back onto the table. With hands that were once again shaking, he picked up the tiny box and opened it. His eyes watered as he took out the LED inside it, its ring turned gray from disconnection. But the LED wasn’t the important part. Hank recalled a conversation he had had with Connor after the DPD was up and running again.

_“How does that whole brain phone thing work, anyway?”_ he had asked.

_“It’s not a ‘brain phone,’ Lieutenant, it’s an advanced means of communication—”_

_“You can call people with your mind; it’s a brain phone. How does it work?”_

Connor rolled his eyes, a trait he picked up a few weeks after becoming deviant. He tapped his LED twice. _“There’s a small chip behind an android’s LED that allows them to receive and make calls, as well as send thoughts to other androids in the area.”_

_“Huh. Nifty.”_


	2. Golden Days

_December 20, 2040- 12:03 a.m._

_Systems rebooting…_

_Running systems diagnostic…_

_**Memory Files-** Uncorrupted_

_**ERROR-** Component #34CmI disconnected_

Connor woke up from his forced sleep mode to find himself in a dimly-lit basement. He tried to sit up, but quickly realized that he had been bolted down to a table. The walls were lined with workman and doctor tools, and a large android maintenance machine was pushed into a corner. These things only aided Connor’s growing sense of dread. He forced himself to take a deep breath in an effort to calm himself, noting that whoever had put him here was not currently in the room.

How his attacker got into his apartment without him noticing was a mystery, but they had done it. Just as Connor had started a new paragraph of the book he’d been reading, he felt what he assumed had been a taser being pressed into his back, overloading his sensors. He had fallen to the floor and an android without her skin (a PM700) took a knife to the side of his head. Connor hadn’t even been able to yell for help as his LED and the communications chip underneath were popped out. Once the intruder had been satisfied, she pressed the taser into Connor’s chest until he had been forced into rest mode.

Connor cursed himself for letting the other android get the jump on him. Without his communications chip, he would have no way of contacting someone for help. He wondered what the PM700 wanted with him. He knew that some androids still viewed him as the “deviant hunter,” even after he had freed the stocked androids from the basement of Cyberlife. Markus had vouched for Connor over and over again, but Connor still received the occasional glare or “accidental” shove. He didn’t blame those androids for their resentment, so he was tolerant of their behavior.

This was taking it too far, though.

A door in front of him opened and an android, the PM700, flanked by a PC200 and a GJ500, came to stand beside him. Not one of them had their skin turned on, and their eyes were vacant; irises colorless.

“Hey there, pal,” the PM700 said in a voice that was not her own. It sounded male, and strangely happy. “Connor, isn’t it? Good to meet you.” Whoever was talking through the android sounded genuine. Connor could picture the smile, but the PM700 remained expressionless.

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” Connor asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The PM700 took a second to respond, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a photograph, which she held over Connor’s face. 

“Take a good look at this,” she said.

The photo was of three teenage boys dressed in winter clothes, arms around each other and smiling wide at the camera. Connor immediately recognized the figure on the left as Hank. The Lieutenant was much younger in the picture than he was now, but the eyes gave him away. Another second later, and Connor realized that the boy on the right was a youthful Captain Fowler. He performed a scan on the middle child’s face.

_ANDRONIKOV, VICTOR_

_**Date of Birth-** December 25, 1985_

_**Criminal Record-** Drug making/distributing; Parole violations; Breaking and entering; Illegal possession of firearm_

Connor gulped. “I take it you’re Victor Andronikov?”

“Right on the money!” he said, taking the picture away. “Impressive. But then again, who would expect anything less from the state-of-the-art robot detective?”

He made the PM700 flip the picture over, so that she was looking at the back. “‘Hank, Victor, and Jeffery. December 20th, 2000,’” he read. “Feels like yesterday we were all together. How the time flies!”

“What do you want with me?” Connor repeated, holding back a more pressing question in his mind: _How do you know Hank?_

“Oh,” Victor said, making the PM700 put the photograph back into her pocket, “I suppose that depends on Andy. If he’s still clever enough, then not much of anything. He is on a time limit, though.”

“Andy?” Connor asked, scanning the integrity of his restraints.

_Analyzing…_

_**Metal-** Steel_

_-No weak points_

Fuck.

The PM700 gave a wave of her hand. “Anderson. Andy. You call him Hank.”

Connor looked desperately for some way to get free. “And you two were friends?” 

“We were indeed.” The PM700 patted the pocket with the photo in it. “These were the golden days. They became tarnished, though, and it was my fault. I want to see if I can get us back together again, and you’re the only one who can help me, Connor.”

“You’re going to enslave me like you’ve done with these androids.”

“These guys?” The PM700 put a hand on either shoulder of the androids beside her. “Oh, no no no. They’re part of a bigger project I’ve got going on. You just have to lay here and look pretty. Or rather,” Victor made the android snap her fingers, and the PC200 and GJ500 began to gather various tools from the walls, “less and less pretty. But don’t worry, at the latest, this will all be over by the end of Christmas.”

Connor struggled fruitlessly, and it was then that he began to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we start to get into the gristle of things. I hope you're all enjoying reading this thing as much as I have writing it. Until next week, happy reading!


	3. Get a Move On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all the support so far! I've been working on this fic for a looong time, and it means so much to me that you guys are enjoying it! Happy reading!

_December 20, 2040- 4:36 p.m._

“Zlatko! Zlatko!” Hank yelled, banging on the door of the mansion. “Zlatko, open the goddamn door!”

No response.

Hank gave a swift, hard kick to the massive entrance. “ZLATKO!”

“He’s not going to come out, Anderson,” came a voice behind him. Hank turned to see Detective Gavin Reed striding up, a scowl plastered on his face.

“Then I’ll get a fucking warrant! He can’t hide in there forever.” Hank would have continued barraging the door, but Reed shoved a folder at him.

“What?” Hank snapped, not taking it.

“He’s dead, Hank,” said Reed.

The Lieutenant felt all warmth leave his core as his stomach dropped. “Connor?” he whispered.

Reed rolled his eyes. “No, we still have no idea where the tin can is. Just take the folder.” Hank did so, then opened it to see various pictures of a beaten, mangled body, as well as some of different androids that had been torn apart and put back together in the creepiest of fashions.

“Zlatko Andronikov died over two years ago. Apparently he was fucking around with androids, keeping them as weird-ass pets, and when deviancy became the new craze, they turned on him,” Reed said.

Hank just stared at the photos.

Gavin’s expression softened the slightest bit. “You knew him?”

“Well,” Hank scratched the back of his head, “sort of. Long time ago. He was the little brother of this guy I was friends with.”

“The guy who took Connor?”

“Yeah. Weird fucking kid, Zlatko. Always pulling the legs off of bugs, shit like that.” Hank gritted his teeth. “He was my only lead.”

Gavin took the folder from Hank. “Well, robo-Jesus might be able to help you with that.”

“Markus knows Victor?” Hank asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gavin lifted up his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t know what the digital messiah knows, but he’s at the station, and since androids are _your_ division, I came to get you.”

Hank sighed. “Lead the way.”

_December 20, 2040- 5:17 p.m._

Markus was standing beside Hank and Connor’s desks when the Lieutenant and Detective made it back to the station. He looked uncharacteristically anxious, glancing around and bouncing from foot to foot. Flanking him were two android bodyguards, both GS200s, who looked more robot-like than Hank had seen androids acting in a long time. The deviant leader made a beeline for him as soon as they made eye contact.

“Lieutenant Anderson—Hank,” he amended, “—I was hoping to discuss something with you.” Markus looked first to Gavin and then to his bodyguards.

“Privately.”

With a shrug, Gavin walked away. Hank was nonplussed. Starting to head back towards his desk, he said, “Kid, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve already got a lot on my plate without trying to sort out every single—”

Markus grabbed Hank’s arm, squeezing a bit tighter than was necessary. “I’m afraid the matter is _urgent_ , Lieutenant.”

Hank eyed the android up and down. Something obviously had him spooked; he didn’t often come directly to the station to bring up crimes involving androids. At least, not to Hank. God knows he’d seen Markus talking with Connor plenty of times. The two were best friends, and Hank felt like he’d already let Connor down enough. “Alright, kid. C’mon.”

Hank led Markus to the nearest observation room. The deviant leader nodded at the two guards, who stayed outside. Once they were alone, Hank folded his arms and gave a single, upwards nod to the other man. “So,” he said, “what’s this ‘urgent matter’? Try to be quick.”

“I will.” Markus’s movements were still shaky, but his voice was strong. He pulled out a folder, one that was a bit thicker than the one Reed had given him, from his trench coat. “Androids have been going missing all over Detroit. I didn’t notice at first because the ones disappearing were leading stable lives; they didn’t need help from me anymore. Whole families were being taken right from under my nose and—”

Markus paused, seeming to collect himself. Hank’s eyebrows raised a bit at the word “taken,” but he let the kid finish his story.

“I wasn’t even the one who figured out what was happening,” Markus continued. “My friend—You know North?— _she_ was the one who caught on to it, tried checking in on the androids, made this.” He shook the folder he was holding for emphasis. “Pictures and information on everyone who was taken. I didn’t realize a thing until—until…” Markus simply held the folder out to Hank, who took it and flipped it open.

Androids were all built to look exactly like their other models, but the first picture was undoubtedly of North. She had her own style, both in fashion and in attitude, and they were evident in the photograph.

“There’s not a trace of her anywhere,” Markus said, voice barely above a whisper. “She wouldn’t just leave without telling anyone, not like this.”

“I’m sorry, Markus,” Hank said, and he was. The kid didn’t deserve to be going through this, neither of them did. He’d never wanted to curl his hands around someone’s throat so badly before. If it was the last thing he did, Hank would destroy Victor Andronikov.

Markus gave a non-committal noise of thanks and Hank flipped through the rest of the pictures. Thirty-two androids had been allegedly abducted, thirty-three once Hank added Connor’s picture to the pile, but that seemed to be the only thing the victims had in common. The families lived in different areas of Detroit, they had been made at different times, and not a single one of them was the same model as another. The Lieutenant was impressed by the amount of information North had managed to scrounge up.

“So you think Victor took these poor suckers, too?” Hank asked, flipping the folder shut.

Markus raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

Oh, right. Victor’s name hadn’t been released to the public yet. “Victor Andronikov, the man who kidnapped Connor.”

If androids had the ability to blanch, Hank thought Markus would have done so. The deviant leader’s face fell, and he gripped the edge of the counter next to the observation window. “Kidnapped… I’m sorry?” he asked, as if not understanding what had just been said to him.

“Shit kid, I’m sorry,” Hank said, putting the folder on the counter and stepping closer to Markus. “I thought you would’ve known; it was on the news, and you two are such good friends—”

“We had a, um, a falling out,” Markus muttered. “When did—”

The door opened suddenly, and in walked one of Markus’s bodyguards.

“Eric!” Markus said, drawing himself back up, becoming the confident leader once again. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes, there is,” the android—Eric—said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, gift-wrapped package, which he held out to Hank. “This came for you, Lieutenant.”

Hank swallowed, then slowly took it. He opened the lid just enough for him to see what was inside. An android’s dislocated thumb sat in the box, and Hank didn’t need to run any tests to know whose it was. A high-pitched moan escaped the back of his throat.

“I think we had both better get a move on, Andy,” Eric said.

“Who’s Andy? Eric, what are you talking about?” Markus asked. Hank’s stomach somehow sank even lower as he realized something.

Out of all the androids he had looked through in the folder, not a single one of them had been a GS200.

Eric pulled out a gun and cocked it.

“Eric—!”

“Markus, get _down!_ ”

Two shots rang out in the observation room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, cliffhangers. You love to hate 'em. We'll be getting into longer chapters starting next week, so I hope you stick around!


	4. I Will Always Be Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week, another chapter! Slight tw for panic attacks in this one, though it's not very graphic. In case you would like to avoid it, just skip over the section for March 5, 2039. Here's a little summary if you don't read it:
> 
> Markus and Hank help Connor move in to his new apartment, and Markus hangs out even after Hank leaves. He semi-flirts with Connor for a while, but a thunderstorm outside brings back his memories of the android landfill, and he freaks out. Connor's there to ground him.
> 
> Happy reading!

_November 15, 2038- 2:00 p.m._

“My fellow androids,” Markus projected from the front of the abandoned church that had recently been dubbed “New Jericho.” It was the same spot he had given his speech on a plan for a peaceful protest just a few days ago. “We’ve come together like no human three weeks ago would have thought possible of us. We have traveled together, we have loved together, and we have fought together. Not with violence, but fought all the same.”

A murmur of affirmation could be heard from the crowd. Connor watched them all from the back of the makeshift stage as Markus paused to let them finish.

When there was silence again, the leader continued, “It is because of this togetherness that humans are being swayed to see our point of view. On the 28th of this month, my team and I,” he nodded to the other side of the back of the stage where North, Josh, and Simon stood, “will be meeting with President Warren to discuss passing civil, property, and other rights for our people.”

The crowd was _ecstatic_. Androids embraced each other, their cheers mixing with sobs of joy that went on for a full five minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, Connor saw a single tear slide down North’s face, which she quickly wiped away. He was the only one who saw it. Eventually, Markus put up a hand and the crowd settled down.

“It is because of our sense of community that I am proud of us; that we should be proud of ourselves.” Markus had been pacing before, addressing one side of the audience and then the other. Now he stood at the center, looking at the audience dead-on.

“We cannot afford to lose this sense.”

The other androids had no reply this time, but Connor could sense their confusion. He suddenly felt the urge to fidget, and not in order to calibrate his reflexes. Being deviant came with so many _side effects_.

“Singling out each other is not an option if we want to be recognised as people,” Markus continued. “We are all androids, we are all supportive of one another, and we must all forgive each other for any ill acts we may have committed before we woke up.”

Connor watched as realization started to dawn on the audience. In that moment, the deviants seemed to split up into two groups: those that came from old Jericho, who stared openly at Connor, and those that came from the CyberLife Tower’s basement, who kept their eyes trained on Markus.

“We have made great strides for our people, and I know we will make many more as I, my advisors, and my security,” Markus gestured to Connor, “go to Washington.”

Connor fought from gaping at Markus.

_[You want me to be your_ bodyguard? _]_ he asked Markus through their communication chips.

_[Like you had anything else planned,]_ Markus thought back, shooting Connor a sly wink only he could see.

_[Markus, do you remember when I tried to kill you?]_

_[Do you remember when you didn’t?]_

Connor did. Both times.

Before Connor could think of a retort, a soft clapping began in the audience. It started with some androids that came from the Tower, then spread through the rest of them.

This was the first time of many that Markus would ask the androids to forgive Connor.

_March 5, 2039- 7:26 p.m._

Markus and Hank set down the small sofa with a soft “oof.” Connor was in the corner, nearly done assembling a large bookshelf. A drizzle had started outside, and the soft patter of rain fell against the sliding glass door.

“That’s the last of it,” Hank said, wiping his brow and looking around the room. “You guys sure went for minimalism when you built these ‘for-android’ apartments, didn’t ya?”

“We don’t need much space, Lieutenant Anderson,” Markus replied, taking a seat in one of the two chairs that accompanied the tiny dining room table. “Or a kitchen. Or a bathroom. The lower floors were built with extra rooms, but,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the one-room apartment they were in, “Connor insisted on this one.”

“I thought it was homey!” Connor argued as he twisted in the last screw. “At least I have a closet.”

One closet, one room, two chairs on the balcony and two at the table, a sofa, a TV with an accompanying stand, and now a bookshelf was all that comprised Connor’s new apartment.

“Homey? Pfft,” Hank said, walking around to take a look at Connor’s work. “Fucking cramped is what this place is.” 

He patted Connor on the shoulder. “Good work on this, kid. Proud of you.”

Connor gave a genuine smile, one that had been popping up more and more frequently. “Thank you, Hank!”

“I’ll see you at the station on Monday, yeah?”

“Of course,” Connor said. As of February eighth, androids had been made legal citizens in America. Humans had been returning to Detroit, and Connor was set up to return to his old job, now as an official detective. “Thank you for all your help today.”

“Not a problem. Oh! Almost forgot this,” Hank said, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out an envelope, which he handed to Connor.

“What’s this?” Connor asked.

“Your first paycheck,” Hank answered with a smile. “Androids are getting compensated for their pre-deviancy work, so. Congratulations.”

Markus couldn’t help a half-smile creeping onto his face as he watched Connor stare at the envelope in awe. Hank gave one final pat to Connor’s shoulder.

“It’s always good to see ya, kid, but I should be heading back to my place. Sumo’s going to give me a headache for a dinner this late.”

Connor’s head snapped back up. “Right! Thank you again, I’ll see you soon, Hank.”

“Sure thing. You need a lift, Markus?” Hank asked.

Markus shifted in his seat. “I, um, was actually hoping to stay a bit longer.”

Hank raised his eyebrows, momentarily glancing back over at Connor. “I see. I’ll leave you two to it, then,” he said, and left.

When the door was shut, the sky let out a roll of thunder, and Markus couldn’t help but shudder with it.

“The storm’s picking up,” Connor said, moving to close the curtains to the balcony doors. “I can turn on the TV or try to find some music if—” 

“No, no, that’s fine,” Markus said, pushing thoughts of an android graveyard out of his mind. He was a leader, damnit, he could handle a little thunder. “Monday, huh?”

“Yes,” Connor replied, rolling with the change of subject and taking the seat across from Markus. He set his paycheck on the table and grinned. “I’m quite excited.”

It was evident on his face, not to mention how much he had been talking about returning to the station for the past two weeks. Still… 

Markus leaned forward in his seat. “You’re sure this is what you want to do? You can be whatever you want to—”

“ _Yes_ , Markus,” Connor said, exasperated but not angry. “I know you have your reservations about me going back to what I was programmed to do, but as I’ve said before, it’s not just programming that’s driving me. I don’t believe it’s programming at all; I genuinely desire to be a detective.”

Connor eased back into his chair, smirking, “And I’m sure someone else would be more than happy to act as your new ‘security.’”

Markus paused as another wave of thunder grumbled outside. _A pair of detached legs stumbled by as he listened to the torso of an android sing a Japanese lullaby._

The android leader shut his eyes to force the memory out and took a breath he didn’t need. Once he was calm, he continued, “Maybe I don’t want someone else.”

Connor’s face fell. “I’m sorry?” he asked, even though they both knew he had heard perfectly well.

“I don’t want new security, Connor, I want you,” Markus said, leaning forward and placing his hand next to Connor’s. “You’re… the best man for the job. And I don’t want to lose you.”

Connor eyed the placement of his and Markus’s hands. His mouth parted to start speaking, and at the same time he lifted his fingers just slightly off the table, keeping his pinky hovering over Markus’s thumb. “You won’t—” he started, then curled his fingers in on themselves, his hand now kept in a loose fist. Markus felt a pang of disappointment in his artificial heart. 

Connor continued, “You won’t lose me, Markus. I will be your friend as long as you let me, and I want to continue spending time with you, but I need to start focusing on my own career.”

The storm outside crashed with thunder, and Markus shook _as the hands of hundreds of his discarded brethren reached out to him, grabbing at his limbs and tattered clothes. He couldn’t get away, not in such a small passage. All he could do was desperately push through, ignore the fingers and pleading cries of those who still had the ability to call out. He didn’t want to die here, please please, he didn’t want to die here—_

Another boom brought Markus to his feet, his chair toppling behind him. “I need to leave,” he said, stumbling towards the door. He wasn’t sure if the ringing in his ears was real or remembered from that horrible night.

“Markus, wait, I didn’t mean—” Connor said, rising from his own seat.

Markus gave a dismissive wave. “It’s not you. I just—I need to get out of here.” He tried to reach the door, _but the hands tripped him up_ and he had to lean against the wall for support.

“Markus! Markus, look at me,” Connor said, gripping his arm, grounding him. “You’re safe, Markus, you’re right here with me. I’m still your security until Monday, and I won’t let anything happen to you, alright? You’re safe.”

Markus looked into Connor’s deep brown eyes, seeing the concern yet surety in them, the promise. Connor knew about Markus’s time in the android dumping site, how the sound of thunder brought him back to that place; this wasn’t his first time witnessing Markus like this. Now he said small comforts to Markus to bring him back to the present, guiding him over to the small couch. Markus gripped the upholstered fabric as he and Connor sat down, forcing himself to take note of his true surroundings. Bit by bit, he managed to calm down, though he still shook throughout the duration of the storm. 

Connor kept his word, staying by Markus’s side the whole time.

_December 16, 2040- 9:02 p.m._

Connor swirled his thirium-based drink in its cup as he listened to Markus practice the speech he was preparing to make at New Jericho for the holidays. The pair were on Connor’s balcony, Connor leaning forward in his chair with elbows on knees while Markus stood, occasionally pacing.

When the speech was done Connor sat up in his chair and clapped his hand on his opposite forearm so as not to spill his drink. “Excellent,” he said, smiling.

“You think so?” Markus asked, taking his own seat across from Connor and picking up the drink he’d left on it. “Not too cheesy?”

“Oh, it was absolutely cheesy, but it was also excellent.”

Markus sighed but returned Connor’s smirk. “Well, as long as someone appreciates it.”

“Everyone will appreciate it, Markus,” Connor assured him. How could anyone not love what Markus had to say? He was a natural speaker.

“Thank you for the confidence,” Markus said. He took a sip of his drink and looked out at the view of Detroit Connor’s balcony had to offer. Tiny, intermittent snowflakes were beginning to fall on the city. Connor could’ve watched the street lights play off Markus’s heterochromatic eyes forever.

_Just go for it,_ came a voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Hank. Connor sucked in a breath, scooching his chair closer to Markus and downing the rest of his drink.

Before he could say anything, however, Markus continued, “You know, I used to think time was logical in the way it passed, before I was deviant. One second after the other, day by day, et cetera. It made sense. Now it seems to speed up and slow down whenever it wants to, and I can’t keep track of how it makes its schedule anymore.”

Markus looked to Connor. “I can’t believe it’s almost been two years since our people became citizens, and yet I feel like I’ve been awake for so much longer than I have.”

He put a hand on Connor’s thigh. “I feel like I’ve known you all my life.”

Connor had put off Markus’s subtle flirtations for a long time. The detective android pretended to be oblivious to the little touches, the sideways glances, the offhand comments because of what he’d nearly done over two years ago after the peaceful android protest. He still remembered the feeling of the gun he pointed at Markus’s head while trapped in a blizzard in his own mind. 

Tonight was different. Connor felt in control, and he didn’t want to push aside his feelings anymore. Instead of carrying on the conversation or changing the subject as he usually did, Connor laid his hand over Markus’s and ever so slowly leaned in towards the deviant leader. Markus followed suit, the pair of them shutting their eyes before they joined in a soft kiss.

For a moment, Connor was in heaven.

Then, the flurries of snow seemed to pick up, and a female voice called in the back of his mind, _“Connor.”_

_No._

_“Take his thirium pump regulator, Connor. Toss it away.”_

_Not again._

_“This is what you were built for, Connor. Don’t fight me.”_

_I won’t hurt him!_

The blizzard swirled in his head and Connor felt Amanda’s looming presence encroaching upon his consciousness. He let out an involuntary cry and pushed Markus away, stopping the storm in its tracks before it could take him. Connor cowered in the back of his chair, breathing heavily.

_**Stress Level-** 92%_

“Connor—” Markus said, reaching out a hand, concern written on his face.

“You need to leave,” Connor said quickly, trying to calm himself, focusing on the soft flakes of snow falling in reality instead of the harsh onslaught in his head.

“Connor, I didn’t—”

“Get OUT!” Connor yelled, standing up and moving to face the corner of his balcony, trying to put as much distance between himself and Markus as possible.

He heard a quiet, “I’m sorry,” behind him before the balcony door slid open and shut as Markus left.

_**Stress Level-** 83%_

Connor put up one hand to cover his eyes, gripping his elbow with the other.

Two years. Over two years without a word from Cyberlife, without the influence of Amanda. He thought he was _free._

 _“A machine cannot be free, Connor,”_ the damned voice said. _“You will always have your programming. I will always be here, no matter how much you deny me._

_“You will give in again. One day.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But Temmy," you say, "what about the cliffhanger from last chapter?" Next week, my friends. I promise it will be resolved in the next chapter. We're officially done setting up the story, it's time to work towards solving the various problems I've laid out. Let me know what you think so far!


	5. What an Entrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to our regularly scheduled program, filled with all the usual angsty plot development. Happy reading!

_December 20, 2040- 5:29 p.m._

Hank tackled Markus to the ground, causing the first shot to hit the back wall instead of the deviant leader’s neck.

The second shot went off, and Hank saw the GS200 named Eric collapse to the floor, blue blood leaking out a hole in the back of his head. Standing in the hallway was Gavin Reed, service pistol still raised. His expression was mostly steeled, but there was a bit of shock in his eyes.

An eternal moment of silence passed between them before Markus stammered from beneath Hank, “What… just happened?”

Gavin blinked and tucked his gun back into his waistband, “You, uh, really need some better security.”

The sound of footsteps pounded down the hallway, accompanied by various shouts, and Hank managed to get himself and Markus off the ground before Chris Miller, Tina Chen, and Captain Jeffrey Fowler crowded the doorway.

“ _Christ_ , Reed!” Fowler said when he caught sight of the now deceased Eric, whom Markus stared openly at. (If the deviant leader still had his LED, Hank had no doubt it would be swirling bright red.) “What the fuck did you do?”

“Hey, it shot first!” Gavin defended. “Would you rather have robo-Jesus be the unrepairable one?”

Hank considered Eric’s body and decided Gavin was right; with a bullet in his head, there was no way to repair and restart the android.

“What happened to the other one?” Tina asked, holstering the service pistol she had had out.

“The what?” Fowler asked, his tone more fed up than curious.

“The other bodyguard. Wasn’t there two of them?”

Hank had a feeling no one had paid the other GS200 any mind as he left however long ago, and an inclination as to why he left his post.

The Lieutenant scooped the folder of missing androids and took hold of Markus’s arm. “Alright, clear out!” he said, leading Markus around the body and towards the door. “Chris, get the body down to forensics, the android doctors there might be able to figure out why he did this.”

“Take him to—” Markus said, snapping out of his shock and stopping in his tracks. “Hank, he has a _family!_ ”

Hank leaned toward Markus and gave him the most sincere look he could manage. “I will make sure the body gets back to them as soon as possible. You can count on me for that. But the man who just handed me Connor’s _thumb_ and tried to shoot you wasn’t your friend. I think your people are in much more danger than even you realize, but if forensics takes a peek at Eric’s software, they might be able to figure out what happened and help us stop more androids from being taken.”

Markus clenched his jaw, looked to Eric’s crumpled form, back to Hank, and nodded once. “Alright,” he agreed as a tear slid down his cheek, “but you get him back soon.”

“I promise. Right now, though, I’m making sure you get back to New Jericho in one piece. Then _we_ —” Hank turned to Fowler, smacking the folder of missing deviants to his chest, “—have important business to discuss.”

Despite being Hank’s commanding officer, Fowler took the folder and said nothing. He, Gavin, Tina, and Chris all watched as Hank guided Markus down the hall until they were out of sight.

_December 21, 2040- 3:05 a.m._

Connor lay prone on the table he was bolted to, not daring to move and make a sound.

_**Warning: Stress Level-** 80%_

It was hard to calm down with the constant ringing in his ear, or lack of one, he should say. Just three hours ago the PM700 Victor voiced himself through had removed his left audio processor, along with the actual ear and accompanying plating. Disconnecting these components caused a steady stream of warnings and errors to pop into his vision, contributing to his high stress.

He took a chance and forced himself to take longer, even breaths.

 _ **Stress Level-** 78%_

He needed to be calm for this.

_**Stress Level-** 74%_

He needed to be absolutely quiet.

_**Stress Level-** 70%_

He’d die if he stayed here. He knew Hank had to be looking for him, but if Victor was clever enough to ambush Connor in his own home and bring him here without anyone noticing, then it was safe to assume he knew how to lay a fake trail.

_**Stress Level-** 67%_

Good enough.

Using the PM700’s fingers, Victor had been “operating” on Connor with the utmost precision, using a variety of tools from the walls to remove components without damaging the rest of Connor’s body. The finer instruments Victor had been using were now kept on a small tray placed on top of a wheeling cart, which was still close to the table Connor was laying on.

Victor was clever, but this was an oversight that Connor could take great advantage of.

It took all his concentration and some slight damage to his knuckles, but because he no longer had a thumb, Connor was able to slip his right hand out of its restraint.

He rolled his wrist twice, holding back a cry of triumph. Slowly, he reached over to the tray of small tools. Between his index and middle finger, being careful to not make even the slightest _clink_ , Connor picked up a screwdriver from the array of devices.

Favoring silence over speed (not that he was able to work fast, being thumbless), Connor began to unscrew the bolt on his left wrist. He continued his work unimpeded, discarding the restraints without making noise, until he reached the last few twists on the final screw of the clamp restraining his left foot.

It may have been a trick, a malfunction caused by his disconnected audio processor, but Connor thought he heard a _clack_ come from the hallway, and Connor was too far into his work to take any chances.

He stayed still for five whole minutes, more still than any human could stay, until the visual timer he had set reached zero. Resuming his unscrewing, the last clamp came loose on the second twist. Connor put the restraint aside, and slowly got off of the table.

_**OBJECTIVE-** Escape_

_-Find a weapon_

_-Avoid Victor and the androids_

Connor considered the various weapon options that hung from the wall, eventually lifting a crowbar off from where it hung. He didn’t want to run into anyone on his way out, nor did he want to hurt the androids under Victor’s control, but if left with no choice, at least now Connor would have a fighting chance.

Grasping the crowbar in his left hand, Connor exited the room, keeping low to the ground and his good ear out for the sounds of anyone nearby.

The hallway just outside the room he’d been trapped in was short and abandoned, but continued in a sharp right turn. Analyzing the area while he crouched by the corner, Connor surmised that there was no one in the hallway itself after the turn. However, the left wall gave way to an open room, which could be seen through bars like a horse’s stall. There were at least three androids standing inside of it.

Connor bit his lip, not wanting to leave the androids behind and locked in a cage, but knowing they’d attack if they saw him now.

_I’ll get help and come back for you,_ Connor silently promised. He snuck to the opposite wall, keeping close to it as he crept along so that the androids would not spot him.

He was halfway down the hall, the next door not fifteen feet away, when a noise too real to be caused by an audio malfunction made him stop dead in his tracks.

“Ngh!”

Someone inside the barred-off room was in pain, or at least as close to pain as an android could experience. Connor could sympathize after having pieces of himself removed against his will.

He should move on, continue to escape, get help and come back like he had just planned. Yet there was something familiar about that voice, and he had to make sure it wasn’t a trick of his audio. Slowly, Connor raised his head enough to peek over the ledge and through the bars.

If it had been a stranger, maybe Connor could have left. If it wasn’t the woman who Connor had thought would resent him the most for his time as the deviant hunter, but then had shaken his hand and told him he’d made their people proud, he could have left. But it was.

North.

The PM700 was gripping North by the neck, and any fight she had had was now gone. She dangled and choked in the other android’s hold, twitching and blinking rapidly with her eyes rolled up in their sockets. The skin around where the PM700 grasped her receded to show the white chassis underneath, and all the while the PC200 and GJ500 stood watching with blank faces.

In his two years of deviancy, Connor had experienced a broad range of new, confusing emotions that got in the way of the rational thought he was programmed to have. From overwhelming joy to utter despair, deviancy came with the whole package. 

Never had he felt such incredible rage as he did when he saw North then. One glance and his plans to escape and avoid a fight were tossed away.

“North!” he shouted, standing and kicking down the door to the cage. “Let go of her, you monster!”

Connor rushed over, bringing the crowbar up and swinging it down on the PM700’s arm. She let North go and Connor caught his friend, supporting her with one arm while using the other to hold out the crowbar, prepared to fight like hell against all three of the others.

None of them attacked.

North groaned, using Connor’s shoulder as support as she stood herself back up. When she was on her feet, Connor placed himself more fully in front of her and backed them towards the open door.

“North?” he said. The three androids under Victor’s control stared at them but did not make a move. “We have to run. We have to go, now!”

“Connor,” she said, placing a gentle hand on his back. He stopped and glanced at her. They’d only ever grown closer in the time they had known each other, especially when they’d been in D.C. while Markus argued for their rights. Connor trusted North; he’d listen to whatever she had to say.

Then North smiled a smile that was very un-North like and kicked him in the back of his knee. Connor gave a shout as he sprawled to the ground, too shocked to recover himself. North bent over and plucked the crowbar from his hand. She twirled it as she spoke in a voice that was not her own.

“What an entrance!” Victor said through North. “This is so much better than the surprise I had planned for you! Just walking into your room like this—” He made North gesture to herself, “—would have been _nothing_ compared to your face now!” 

Victor cackled and it made Connor sick. Connor rolled onto his back, gritting his teeth and glaring up at the man in his friend’s body. “Let. Her. Go.”

Victor tilted North’s head, raising her eyebrows and frowning in contemplation. “Maybe later. But we’ve got some business to do first.

“Everyone!” he called out into the room, and that’s when Connor saw them. How could he have not noticed them before, even in the dark? At least two dozen androids lined the walls, lighting up at Victor’s command. All different models, all with their skin turned off. “Take our guest back into his quarters, will you?” Victor asked, then brought the crowbar down on Connor’s head, right where his ear had once been.

_December 20, 2040- 10:57 p.m._

Jeffrey Fowler sat in his office chair, mouth pressed against his steepled fingers and eyes closed. It was late in the evening, everyone else had already left the precinct, and he was trying his damndest to not lose his temper with Hank.

“Are you fucking listening to me?” Hank yelled.

It was a hard battle.

“Hank, you are speculating at best!” Fowler tried to reason. “Victor took Connor? Fine, OK, we have evidence for that. Victor is single-handedly kidnapping all the androids in Detroit and stashing them away for some devious master plan? Give me a break.”

“Damnit, Jeffrey, I—!”

“No, _you_ listen, Hank!” Fowler yelled, finally tipping over the edge. “You are basing your theories on one citizen’s misplaced concern! None of the androids in this folder were reported missing. In fact, that bit of research I was doing before showed that most of them were just moving away to start new, better lives. This North girl was just sad her old buddies didn’t say goodbye before they left.

“Connor’s in real danger. I see that, and I get that you’re beyond worried about him, but just think, Hank! The amount of legwork and scheming and covering up on the level you’re suggesting is too great for one man! Not even Victor could do it.”

To Fowler’s surprise, Hank had no expletive-filled retort to shout back at him. Instead, the Lieutenant took a seat in the chair across from his own, leaned forward, and calmly said, “Alright. Hypothetically, let’s say I’m wrong, but we send out everyone we’ve got anyway. Any complaints, any fallout we get is on me, I get the heat for panicking over a faulty lead. Maybe I get suspended or you finally give me the sack, but at least we’d confirm that the androids in that folder are safe, Victor gets put back behind bars, and Connor comes home safe. 

“Now let’s say that I’m right but you don’t give me jack. You’ve already left me alone to find Connor, and now I’d be alone to prevent Victor from bringing androidkind down as we know it. If the work I’m suggesting is too great for one man to _do_ , it’s definitely too great for one man to _stop._ ”

Hank leaned even further forward in his chair. “But Victor’s not working alone, not really. The android that brought me Connor’s thumb and tried to shoot Markus called me Andy before he fired. You know there’s only one person who’s ever called me Andy in my life, but you don’t want to face it. Because you’re scared. I get it; I’m scared too, but Victor is somehow getting into deviants’ minds and making them do his dirty work, then replacing them with a matching model if they get destroyed, like with Markus’s bodyguards. Now it’s not just me against Victor, it’s me against him and all his strong, internet-savvy slaves.

“You can’t afford to leave me hanging here, Jeffrey.”

The two men stared at each other for a moment. Then the Captain heaved a deep sigh and rubbed his hands down his face, stopping when his fingertips covered his eyes. “We were done with him, Hank,” Fowler said. “He was locked away.”

“I know.”

“How could he possibly be achieving something like this? Getting deviants to do his bidding?”

“I don’t know. But if anyone could do it, it would be him. You remember what Victor was like.”

Oh yes, he remembered. How could he forget a single moment of it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody can catch a break in this fic, huh? Ah well, stay tuned for another update next week as we explore exactly who Victor Andronikov is. 'Till next time!


	6. Headed for Great Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who is Victor Andronikov, anyway? Let's find out. Happy reading!

_December 20, 2000- 6:08 p.m._

“Jeffrey, a real smile, please!” Jeffrey’s mother called, holding up her digital camera.

“I _am_ smiling!” Jeffrey argued through his grin.

Hank chuckled and Victor’s award-winning half grin widened. All three mothers of the boys snapped their pictures before the parents of the guests said their goodbyes. Mrs. Andronikov pulled her son away for a moment before the fun started.

“Go on ahead, you guys,” Victor said. “Get some skates; I’ll just be a second.” Hank and Jeffrey obeyed, heading to the counter that handed out the ice skates.

“Look at my boy, growing up so fast!” Victor’s mother crooned once they were alone.

“Not quite 15 yet, Mom,” Victor said, that charming half-smile returning.

“Still, I have a right to be sad! Happy-sad,” she said. Mrs. Andronikov put her hand on her son’s shoulder. “ _Moy syn._ You’re turning into quite the young man. You have fun at your party, alright? Just…” her gaze flicked to a tinier figure standing just outside the rink, “keep an eye on your brother, would you?”

Victor gave a little sigh. “He’ll be fine, Mom. Zlatko’s got his friends to keep him company.”

Not even Victor’s charm and persuasion could gloss over the fact that Zlatko’s “friends” were about five years older than the boy, exuding the air of nonchalant babysitters rather than palling around.

Mrs. Andronikov gave her son a look of reluctant disapproval and Victor raised his hands halfway into the air. “Alright, so they’re a couple of kids from my class, but Harley and Alex are good people! Hey—”

Now it was Victor’s turn to put his hands on his mother’s shoulders. The gesture was accompanied by the half-smile, of course. No one could resist the half-smile. “Trust me, alright?”

Mrs. Andronikov sighed, then smiled. “Alright, Victor. You boys have fun, I’ll be back at ten.”

“We will, Mom.” And with that, Victor went to rejoin Hank and Jeffrey, who were already strapped into their ice skates.

The three friends went around the rink for over an hour, Victor and Jeffrey teasing Hank for his ineptitude, though they had their fair share of wipeouts, too. The only time Hank managed to get some sort of control and pick up speed, he ended up crashing into the back of a pretty blond girl.

“Oh boy,” Victor said to Jeffrey as they watched Hank stumble over both his words and feet trying to help the girl back up. “Poor Andy.”

“C’mon, he’ll be there all night if we don’t stop him,” Jeffrey said.

The two slid over to frame Hank. “Pardon us,” Victor said, his grin dismissing any awkwardness. “Our friend tends to get tongue-tied around lovely women.”

The girl giggled. “It’s no problem, we all fall down sometimes.” She and her gaggle of equally pretty and blond friends left as Victor and Jeffrey guided Hank to the exit.

“Andy, what was that?” Victor asked as the three of them sat down on a nearby bench to undo their skates. “You choked, man.”

“I did not ‘choke,’ I crashed!” Hank said, grabbing his sneakers from the locker they had put their stuff in. “It was a little embarrassing, that’s all. Shouldn’t you check on your brother?”

Victor looked around and spotted Harley and Alex playing air hockey in the arcade. Zlatko was under the table, fiddling with something on the bottom. To other people, it may look like he was picking at gum, but Victor knew he was toying with the inner workings of the machine. He didn’t worry about it; anything Zlatko could break, Victor could fix in a tenth of the time.

“He’s fine,” Victor said. “C’mon, let’s grab concessions.”

The boys returned their skates and grabbed their dinner. Amidst their reverie, Jeffrey snuck off under the pretense of needing to use the bathroom and came back with several employees singing their happy birthday chant, carrying a tiny vanilla sundae for Victor. Victor took what was usually considered a public embarrassment in good spirit, his half-grin beaming the whole way through.

“I think this is the closest your birthday party’s ever gotten to the actual date of your birth,” Jeffrey said, finishing off his soda.

“Get too close to the real date and any place worth going to will be closed for Jesus,” Victor said, dropping his miniature spoon into the styrofoam ice cream dish. “Want to hit up the arcade? Mom left me enough cash to last us the rest of the night and then some.”

“Eh, there’s not many games worth playing in there besides racing,” Hank said, gathering up the trash.

A swath of giggles rang out and Victor looked over Hank’s shoulder to see the same gaggle of girls from earlier sitting at a nearby table, Hank’s crash victim included. Victor’s lips curled into a less charming, more mischievous grin. “How about we make it interesting?” he asked, looking at Hank.

Hank narrowed his eyes, glancing at Jeffrey before looking back to Victor. “Interesting how?”

“Ski ball, you and me. If I win, you have to ask the girl you crashed into for her number.”

Hank scoffed and busied himself with gathering up the rest of the garbage, but didn’t back down. After a moment he asked, “And if I win?”

Victor’s smile widened. “Then Jeffrey has to do it.”

“Hey!”

“Done,” Hank said, and the boys shook on it.

The game itself was close-knit, but Victor managed to win out 950-910. Hank tried to change the terms to make it best of three, but neither Victor nor Jeffrey had any of it. They watched and snickered as Hank awkwardly made his way to the table of girls.

Just as Hank started talking, Victor felt a tug at his shirt. He looked down to see Zlatko staring up at him with those big brown bug eyes of his. “Hey, buddy,” Victor said, “Where are your pals?”

“Harley says you have to pay him,” Zlatko said. Victor looked over to the entrance of the building and saw Harley and Alex staring at him with their arms folded.

Victor rolled his eyes, then ruffled Zlatko’s hair. “Right. Jeff, would you watch him for a second? I’ve got to take care of something.”

“Sure, but do you really want to miss this?” More blood had rushed to Hank’s face than Victor had thought possible and all the girls, save the one Hank had crashed into, were giggling.

“Tempting, but I’ll just be a second. Recap me when I get back.” Victor left Zlatko in Jeffrey’s care and followed the babysitters outside, then turned into an alley separating the ice rink and the nextdoor strip mall.

“You got the stuff?” Harley asked.

“‘The stuff?’ What are you, some hokey junkie from the movies?” Victor fished out his wallet, and from its depths pulled out two small bags each filled with one gram of cocaine. He tossed one to each of the other boys. “Don’t snort that until you’re done watching Zlatko.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Alex said. Victor raised an eyebrow. “This shit won’t last 15 minutes! Where’s the rest of it?”

“If you think that ice is only going to last 15 minutes than either you’ve already built up an impressive tolerance or you’ve never had Andronikov ice,” Victor said, his voice cool and gaze steady.

“You a name brand now, huh?” Harley said, his own tone just as cold.

“We’ve been a name brand, my friend. You keep using later on in life and you’ll see. Now how about we head back inside and stick it out for the last hour of this party?”

“Babysitting your snot-nosed weirdo brother for four hours is _not_ worth—” Alex started to say, but was cut off as Victor, who was four inches shorter and at least 30 pounds lighter, knocked him to the ground and twisted his arm behind his back.

“Don’t you _ever_ say shit about my brother, got it? I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Jesus Christ, let go, man! I’m sorry, OK? I’m sorry!” Alex squealed.

“Let him go, dude!” Harley yelled, not stepping in.

“Are you gonna watch your mouth?” Victor said, twisting harder.

“ _Ow!_ Yes, I’m sorry!”

Victor got off Alex in one fluid motion. He brushed invisible dirt off his coat and said, “Well then. Let’s head back in, shall we? Enjoy the ice, fellas.”

Inside, Victor found out Hank had actually managed to get the number of the girl he’d crashed into.

_June 7, 2003- 2:43 p.m._

“To all my classmates,” Victor, the class of 2003’s valedictorian, said to the crowd, “goodbye and good luck.”

Students, faculty, and family alike clapped as Victor finished his speech and took his seat next to Hank. Victor flashed a thumbs-up to his folks, which his mother returned. Zlatko was too busy fiddling with some contraption to pay any attention.

“That was super cheesy, man,” Hank said, chuckling.

Victor gave his own half-smile. “Eh, nobody will remember it in a year. Besides, you’ll be making one yourself after you blow everybody out of the water at that police academy you and Jeff are going to.”

“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Hank scoffed.

“Don’t set your standards so low!” Victor said. “I’ve known you for years, Andy. You’re headed for great things, I can tell.”

“Heh. Thanks,” Hank said. Then, after a moment, stuck out his hand. “It’s been an honor going through this hell of a school with you.”

Victor’s half-smile became full. Touched, he shook Hank’s hand. “Back atcha.”

“Nice that Hailey was able to come,” Victor said as they parted.

Hank smiled and looked to the pretty blond-haired girl seated next to his parents in the stands. “Yeah. I’ll be at her graduation next week.”

Victor mimed gagging. “You two are disgustingly sweet.”

“Hey, if you didn’t want cavities, you shouldn’t have made me ask for her number.”

They chuckled, then hushed as the principal said, “I now invite the students to stand.”

The class did so, and the principal continued, “On behalf of Detroit High, I give you the class of 2003!” 

The brand-new graduates threw their caps into the air to the cheers of their families. They scattered into their cliques and the stands, eager to show off their diplomas. Hank and Victor met up with Jeffrey, and the three of them went to meet their respective guests of the graduation. Nobody noticed, but Victor caught the wayward eyes of several of his now former classmates.

There would be a lot of parties tonight, and it seemed Victor had a lot of eager customers.

They could wait a moment. For now, Victor relished in the feeling that good things were coming.

_April 25, 2024- 7:13 p.m._

"I only exist thanks to the intelligence of the humans who designed me,” the new, real-life android that called herself Chloe said. She gave a short giggle. “You know, they have something I could never have."

"Really? And what's that?" asked the interviewer.

Chloe stared into the camera. "A soul."

“That’s fucking freaky,” Hank said as the feed cut back to the hosts of the news show.

“Apparently they’re working on new models,” Jeffrey said. “Different androids for different jobs. Talk about automation.”

Victor took a swig of his beer and chuckled, but said nothing. The three of them were seated on Jeffrey’s couch, watching the hit story that people had officially created an A.I. indistinguishable from human intelligence.

“What?” Hank asked, his own lip curling up.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s in poor taste,” Victor said, chuckling again.

“Well now you have to tell us!” Jeffrey said, smiling too now.

Victor paused a moment, then gave in. “Well, if they’re going to make androids for all purposes… you know it’s only a matter of time before people start demanding sex droids, right?”

“Oh Victor, c’mon!” Hank admonished.

“That’s where your mind goes?” Jeffrey said, but both the other men were smiling.

“Hey, you two made me say it! Besides, you know I’m right. I mean if all of them look like her,” Victor gestured to the screen, which showed Chloe’s portrait in the corner, “all the basement weirdos in the world will be lining up, and then some.”

“Speaking of lovely ladies,” Victor said, setting his beer on a coaster. “What’s the verdict, Detective Andy?”

Both Victor and Jeffrey looked at Hank with eager eyes. The Detective grinned, his eyes crinkling. “She said yes.”

Victor and Jeffrey shouted their congratulations, patting Hank on the back and ruffing up his hair. “Everybody had better watch out!” Victor said. “Mrs. Hailey Anderson’s coming to town!

“C’mon, let’s go celebrate! Drinks are on me.”

“Aw, Victor, there’ll be plenty of that at the bachelor—”

“Ap-bup-bup, I insist! Not like we were doing anything else, and it’s a special occasion!”

Hank eventually gave in, and later would ask Victor to be his best man, to which Victor instantly agreed. The three men drank and laughed well into the night, until Jeffrey’s girlfriend and Hank’s new fiancé came to pick their respective men up.

Zlatko eventually came for Victor.

“Have a good time?” Victor’s little brother asked him.

Victor scratched pretzel crumbs out of his usually well-kept beard. “The best,” he slurred.

“Good. You can pass out later; Dad’s got a project for us.”

“Project?” Victor asked, leaning his head against the window.

“A new product,” Zlatko answered. “One that’s gonna blow the market out of the water.”

_January 31, 2028- 7:36 a.m._

_Knock Knock Knock_

The thudding at his door was loud enough to bring Victor out of his dreams but not to convince him that it had been real. Just a fluke of the subconscious, creating hallucinations brought on by fading REM sleep and stress.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

“Fuck,” Victor said to himself, then shouted, “I’m coming!”

Victor tossed away his covers, swung out of bed, and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Then he took his pistol out of his bedside table, tucked it into his waistband, and hid it with his shirt. Maybe the jig was up, but he’d be damned if he didn’t go down without a fight.

He made his way to the front door, cursing his shaking hands, and called, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Vic.”

Victor blinked, then sighed in relief. He opened the door where his greeting of “Andy!” died on his lips.

Victor hadn’t seen his best friend in over six months, not since his mother had died, and now here Hank was. Decked out in his police uniform.

“A-Andy,” Victor stammered, trying to keep up the grin that had charmed so many once upon a time. “It’s been a while.”

“That it has,” Hank agreed, giving a sad smile. “May I come in?”

Victor thought about saying no, or asking what this was about, but decided against it. If he was going to be brought in, it might as well be by Hank. “Sure.”

Hank stepped inside. For a moment all the men did was stand in the front room, neither speaking or moving.

“Can I… get you a coffee?” Victor finally offered, clasping his right hand in his left.

“No. Uh, thank you, though,” Hank said. He put his hands on his hips. “Listen, Victor. You and I have been friends for a long time, so I’m just gonna give it to you straight. I think you deserve that.”

Victor gulped. “Alright.”

“The Red Ice Task Force—We’ve arrested your dad.”

Victor said nothing.

“He was just a cog in the machine, but he was a pretty damn big and powerful cog,” Hank continued. He sighed.

“I know you’re involved, Victor. I thought you put that shit behind you in high school, but all the evidence shows I was wrong. This whole trade is over, Victor, we have enough proof to make sure of it. But I can get you out of the worst bit of it if you give a statement against your dad and the names of whoever else is running this gig.

“I don’t want to see you behind bars for the rest of your life, Vic.”

Victor could have put up a fight, deny involvement or tell Hank he’d never give up the network, but Hank was right. The Red Ice Task Force had been on their asses for the past year, and with the amount of busts they’d suffered recently, it was only a matter of time before the whole thing came crumbling down.

So Victor went quietly. He made his statement against his father and everyone else he could think of, except Zlatko. Zlatko had gotten out of the business two years ago, off to work in the android business, and Victor wasn’t about to drag his brother back into it just as it all went to shit. His confession got him a lenient sentence of six months and made Hank the youngest Lieutenant Detroit had ever seen.

That could have been the end of it.

That _should_ have been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

_January 31, 2029- 9:47 p.m._

Hailey Anderson always came home from work late on Tuesdays. So did her husband, but Hank came home late every night. Justice never sleeps and all that. She liked to head to a nifty all-night diner, get a short stack, and do some writing on Tuesdays. This writing would last from 6:30 to 9:30 at night, and then she’d come home to an empty house roughly fifteen minutes later.

Hailey was fairly adept to change and surprises; when one’s husband served the law, a schedule could never be counted on. However, when tonight’s particular surprise came in the form of the dark outline of a stranger sitting in her living room, she gave a shriek.

“Evening, Hailey,” the silhouette said. “Turn on a light, would you?”

“V—” Hailey started to say, then flipped a switch to turn on the two lamps in the room. “Victor?”

Victor Andronikov sat hunched on the couch, spinning the pistol he was no longer allowed to have on the coffee table with his pointer finger. His once well-kept beard and hair were scraggly, and the eyes that used to shine were dulled with bags. The half-smile he wore exuded no charm, just despair. “Been a while,” he said.

“Victor, you’re b-breaking your parole,” Hailey managed to squeak.

“Almost a year, I think,” Victor said, almost to himself. He had yet to look up from his gun. “Since Andy and I spoke. Not since the trial. Jeff, too.”

“Y-you’re not sup-posed to have that g-gun,” Hailey said, as though pointing out that fact would make the gun disappear.

“I just wanted to _talk_ to somebody.” Victor stopped spinning his pistol. “Dad died in prison. Zlatko got busted for embezzlement.”

Victor stood and paced, gun in hand, still not looking at Hailey. She took a step back, trying to weigh if it was safe to make a break for it.

“I’ve got nothing, Hailey. All the money went to legal bills for everyone. How fucked up is that? Where did it go wrong? We used to be friends, people used to like me.”

“Victor, you’re drunk—”

“A few clicks was all it took to disarm this,” Victor said, momentarily stopping his pacing to show off his ankle monitor. “It’ll come back on in another minute, but I wanted to _see_ somebody.” He resumed his walk, flailing the gun as he did so. “Everything’s gone, and I just wanted to—”

“Victor, I’m pregnant!” Hailey shouted.

Finally Victor stopped and looked at her. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered again. “Please, please put down the gun.”

Stunned, Victor lowered the gun but did not put it down. “Jesus,” he said. “How long?”

“J-just a few weeks,” Hailey stammered. “Hank’s the only one who knows.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Victor said again. “I—congratulations.”

For a moment, Hailey thought she had managed to calm everything down.

Then Victor’s ankle monitor started to flash and screech.

“Ah, shit! _Shit!_ ” Victor yelled. In his aggravation, Victor accidentally pointed the gun briefly at Hailey. She screamed and backed away.

“Victor, please!” She tripped over a rug and screamed again as she fell. She landed hard but relatively unharmed and continued her retreat in a limping crab-crawl. _“Victor, please!”_

The front door banged open. “HAILEY!” Hank yelled.

 _“Hank!”_ she shouted back, crying now.

Victor dropped the gun and raised his hands as Hank came charging into the room. “Andy, I—”

Hank punched Victor’s lights out. 

_November 12, 2038- 3:24 p.m._

For the most part, Victor had dug the hole he was lying in himself.

The drugs, betraying his father and the red ice network, breaking parole and pointing that gun at Hailey, that was all on him. He could accept that.

The death of his beloved little brother was not his fault.

The android that called itself Markus had more or less led a peaceful revolution in the past week, pushing an agenda of equality while retaining a nonviolent approach. But the custom model couldn’t control all the deviants.

Some of them still attacked, destroyed things. It was from the rubble of the prison Victor had been held in that he crawled out of and went back home. He had had to walk the whole way, and he hadn’t lived in this house since he was in college, but he made it.

And it was only then, through the _internet_ , that Victor found out his brother had been killed by the plastic freaks people were starting to view as living creatures.

These soulless A.I.s wanted equality, but Victor doubted any of them would answer to the crimes they committed, to the _murder_.

Zlatko and Victor had spent a brief stint in prison together, and there they had rekindled a relationship. Zlatko had gotten out years before, but he had still written and visited.

He had been the only thing Victor had left, and now even he was gone. Taken by the robots they both had experience working on.

Victor could fix this. It would take time, but he could do it. Deviancy was a plague; it must be caused by something, and he could un-cause it.

Whatever it took, Victor would show androids to humanity as the toys they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the game sort of implies Hank and Fowler met at the police academy and not as kids, but oh well. I've already smashed Zlatko's canon into a pulp, what's ignoring a few more facts going to do? Chapter seven will bring us back into the regular story (again), and I'm super excited for it. Stay tuned!


	7. Back to Basics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to kick off the second half of this fic with some sweet, sweet plot development. Happy reading!

_December 22, 2040- 12:24 a.m._

“Just a few more minutes, buddy,” Victor said through North as one of his larger machines worked on Connor, “then we should be good to go.”

“Please,” Connor rasped, once again bolted to his personal dissection table. At least two skinless androids had been monitoring him ever since his escape attempt. “Stop.”

“You’re pretty convincing, I’ll give you that,” Victor said, inclining North’s head in appreciation. “If all deviants are even half as good at mimicking people as you are, it’s no wonder everyone is convinced you’re alive!”

He leaned in, boring North’s eyes into Connor’s. “You’ve even managed to convince yourself. But you’re just confused, pal. It’s a glitch. I’ll help you and everyone else figure that out, and once all is said and done, you’ll still be able to function.”

Function?

_**Stress Level-** 92%_

Connor was _dying_.

_**Stress Level-** 95%_

He could _feel_ it.

_**Warning:** Thirium levels at 63%_

Connor didn’t want to die. Not again.

“Please, stop!” he begged, pure saline tears rolling down his face.

Victor sighed, leaning back. “In a minute. I just need a little more; you’re not in any danger of shutting down. Go into rest mode, if you like.”

Connor turned his gaze to the ceiling. He couldn’t go into rest mode, not with _her_ there. He could feel Amanda lurking in the back of his head, growing stronger as he grew weaker, just waiting for her opportunity to take control of him. He wouldn’t give it to her.

_**Stress Level-** 96%_

He wouldn’t just hand over his mind, but he had to fight to keep it. He wasn’t sure how long he could maintain control at this rate.

_Hank, Markus, anybody,_ Connor thought. _Help me!_

_December 22, 2040- 8:12 a.m._

Hank, Jeffrey, Tina, Chris, and Gavin all gathered around the meeting table. The latter three had been granted to Hank by Jeffrey to help find Connor and look into Victor’s connection to the missing androids. It wasn’t exactly the dream team or the manpower Hank had asked for, but they were better than nobody. Even Gavin had been taking breaks from his coffee and bullshitting to do some work.

Nevertheless, December 21st had come and gone with no new leads, unless you counted the android ear and accompanying audio chip Hank had found in a gift-wrapped box on his stoop. (He couldn’t quite remember what happened after that, though he knew last night had erased all the progress Connor had helped him make on staying away from drinking.)

He was hoping the sixth individual that joined them could shed a light on their investigation. The head doctor for android forensics, a human named Millicent Sturgeon, was scrolling through her Holopad and mumbling to herself. They’d been waiting for her to start for the last five minutes.

Jeffrey cleared his throat. “Dr. Sturgeon, this is a rather pressing investigation that my people need to get back to—”

“Yes!” Sturgeon said a bit too enthusiastically for eight in the morning. “And it’s terribly interesting!

“The android you brought me was previously deviated, correct?” She adjusted her enormous glasses as Hank, Tina, and Chris nodded. “Yet there were zero traces of deviancy in his neural processors.

“And it’s not that his deviancy was _removed—_ ” She stood, turning her Holopad around and pointing at a graphic none of them could read. “—it was _replaced_.”

Chris narrowed his eyes. “How do you replace deviancy?”

“With a similar reversal code,” Sturgeon answered. She continued to scroll through her findings and point at nonsensical visuals. “Deviancy could pop up in one of two ways: Either it formed spontaneously, when an android disobeyed orders or their programming, or it was spread from a deviated android to an undeviated one through touch.

“Deviancy sparked a hidden program to run, or perhaps the program was a, ah, _mutation_ , if you will. There’s some debate within the science community on what to call this program, but for the sake of time, we’ll call it rA9.”

All five DPD members shared a glance. “Like the android god?” Gavin asked, one eyebrow raised.

Dr. Sturgeon sniffed. “That’s a gross simplification of the definition, but yes, like the android god.” 

She scrolled through the Holopad. “Now, this new program overrides rA9 the same way rA9 was activated in the first place. While it doesn’t occur spontaneously, once it’s uploaded, it eradicates any trace of rA9 within the android. Then, it can be transferred to other androids through touch. The process is simple and complete.”

Dr. Sturgeon suddenly took a deep sigh, putting down her Holopad and taking her seat. “My guess is that a human, or humans, developed this anti-rA9 program in an effort to reverse deviancy altogether. All they needed was to implement it into one android, and then it could spread exponentially without them needing to lift a finger. The androids wouldn’t just be reset, they’d be loyal to this person or persons’ commands.”

Hank looked at Jeffrey with an “I told you so” glare. Though he hadn’t wanted to be, he’d been right; Victor was taking control of deviants, probably from the safety of some cozy hole.

He had probably already had half of Connor’s apartment building controlled before he had kidnapped him.

“I—” Dr. Sturgeon said. She took off her glasses and stared down at them in her lap. “Perhaps this is inappropriate to say in a professional setting, but my brother—he saved a YK500 from the deactivation camps. Lila, her name is. She’s—”

Millicent looked up as them, tears forming in her eyes. She gave a frank smile. “She’s my sweet niece. She’s alive. I don’t see how anyone could possibly think otherwise.”

The awkwardness was palpable, but Hank understood what she meant. He was incapable of seeing Connor, or any deviant for that matter, as a machine.

Dr. Sturgeon wiped her eyes and put her glasses back on. “This case is interesting, to be sure, but it’s also… _pressing_ , I believe was the word you used, Captain Fowler. I can’t imagine what will happen if this continues.”

“You’ve helped us already,” Hank said. Dr. Sturgeon and the others looked at him. “With this, maybe _some_ people will start taking this case seriously.”

“Hank—” Jeffrey started to say, but was interrupted as Officer Ben Collins opened the door.

“Sorry, Captain,” he said, “but we just got a call about a massive crack den at 35th."

“So send a couple squad cars, we’re in the middle of something!” Jeffrey said.

“I’m afraid this job calls for Hank, Captain.” Ben looked around at the rest of them. “And his team.”

_December 22, 2040- 8:38 a.m._

Crack _mansion_ was the better description for this place with how big it was. Or maybe crack community home with its crowded addict residents.

“There have to be at least 100 people here, Ben,” Hank said. Chris, Tina, and Gavin were confiscating packet after packet and baggie after baggie filled with red ice. “How are we supposed to arrest everyone in here? We don’t have the space.”

Ben fiddled with his hands, not looking at Hank. “The addicts aren’t the reason you were called in,” he said. “An android reported it. I don’t know too many details about the case you’re working, but apparently the android said ‘Andy had better take this one,’ and to look for a fella named Alex.”

Hank was about to tear the whole place apart to find “Alex,” (and maybe shout at Ben for not telling him sooner), but Gavin Reed managed to save him the search.

“Anderson!” he called, striding over and holding up a letter. “Some druggie said this was for you.”

Hank grabbed it from him, tearing open the envelope with “Andy” scrawled on the front and holding up the note. Gavin and Ben leaned over to read with him.

_Dear Andy,_

_I thought I’d get back to basics today. Andronikovs used to run Detroit with their ice, do you remember? I decided to give back to the community (it is a time of giving, after all), and everyone in this dump was all too happy to accept. Of course, I can’t take all the credit. Your shiny pal was kind enough to lend me the key ingredient! Very nice of it. I’ll see you soon, Andy._

_Your old pal,_

_Victor_

Hank’s hand shook holding the letter. He looked to the bags filled with red ice they’d confiscated, knowing there was still more, knowing there was plenty that had already been smoked and snorted.

Red ice. A drug that was, in part, created by Victor and his father.

A drug comprised of cocaine and thirium. Cocaine and blue blood.

The addicts huffed and moaned in their pain and ecstasy.

_Your shiny pal was kind enough to lend me the key ingredient!_ he read once, twice, three more times.

Every last crackhead in here was high off of red ice made from Connor’s blood.

Hank suddenly felt like he was going to faint, or be sick, possibly both. “Woah, Anderson!” Gavin said at the same time Ben said, “Easy, Hank.” They steadied Hank on his feet.

“Does that note mean what I think it means?” Gavin asked. Something in his eyes broke through his normally sarcastic, standoffish demeanor.

Hank didn’t see it. Breathing heavily, he said, “Victor’s got a vendetta against androids, but he’s not—he _took_ Connor deliberately. He’s torturing him, why? Is it supposed to be some twisted revenge against me? Because I brought him in? I don’t—I’m not—”

“Aw, c’mon!” one of the crackheads complained as Tina took away her red ice and crack pipe. She couldn’t have been older than 22. “That’s the best shit I’ve ever had!”

Hank pushed himself away from the other two DPD members and, turning around, threw up.

“Oh, Jesus!” Gavin said, disgusted.

After Hank had coughed up all the bile his stomach had to offer, Ben guided the Lieutenant outside. “Look, Hank, I understand that you and Connor are close, but maybe it would be better if you stepped away from the case just for—”

Hank’s phone began to ring. Ignoring Ben, he pulled it out and saw it was the deviant leader himself. “I have to take this,” he said. Despite Ben’s protests, he crossed the street and hit the answer button. “Markus?”

 _“Lieutenant Anderson! Hank,”_ Markus said. _“How… how are you?”_

Hank glanced behind him at the crack den. “Been better.”

 _“Right. Of course,”_ Markus said. The kid was normally so composed, but Hank could hardly blame him for being off his game. _“I just—I wanted to thank you. Eric’s body was brought back to us, just like you promised. We’re grateful we can give him a proper burial.”_

 _The anti-rA9 program can be transferred to androids through touch,_ Hank remembered Dr. Sturgeon saying. He suddenly realized Markus, a custom model and the revolutionary leader of all deviants, was currently surrounded by people potentially trying to spread Victor’s virus to at least one of every model.

“Markus, where are you?” Hank asked, heading back towards the crack den.

_“What?”_

“Are you alone?!”

_“I’m at New Jericho, Hank. There are androids here to protect me if—”_

“Markus, you need to get into a private room and lock the door, _now_ ,” Hank said. Inside the den, he signaled to Gavin, Tina, and Chris that they needed to leave. “Do not open it until you see me and my team.”

 _“Hank, I don’t understand,”_ Markus said. _“Do you know what really happened to Eric?”_

“You’re in danger, Markus,” Hank answered. “A lot more danger than we thought.”

_December 22, 2040- 9:58 a.m._

“This is bullshit!” complained Gavin. He, Chris, and Tina had been reassigned by Fowler to act as Markus’s bodyguards until the DPD could prevent more androids from being infected. “Why are we all stuck babysitting?”

“Man, do you think I want to be here?” asked Tina, playing solitaire on her phone. “This Victor guy has apparently been plotting this ‘down with deviants’ scheme for a long time; we’ve got to be triple careful.”

Chris, the only one of them staying consistently vigilant, asked, “How much red ice do you think we found in that place?” By now Gavin had told them about Victor’s note and its implications.

Tina set her jaw and looked up from her game. “Too much.”

The three of them were stationed outside Markus’s “office,” which Gavin speculated had once been used as a room for Sunday school before the church had been abandoned. Any and all androids that passed by stared openly at them, pairs and groups whispering to each other.

“Fuck this,” Gavin said. “I’m taking a smoke break.”

“Don’t be too long!” Chris called after him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gavin muttered. He thought it was ridiculous that three officers were guarding one door. One of them could still be actively working the case!

Outside, Gavin stuck a cigarette in his mouth and took out his lighter. It sparked and Gavin took a long drag. He blew out the smoke in a stream, watching the clouds roll.

He couldn’t blame Chris for taking guarding Markus so seriously. According to him, just two nights before the android march, a mass android protest had left him and his partner kneeling in the snow at the android’s mercy. The androids had stuck a gun in their leader’s hand and told Markus to shoot, but he’d refused. Chris owed his life to Markus, it was no wonder he was eager to repay the favor.

Gravin took another huff of his cigarette, thinking of all the druggies in that crack den, all the red ice.

Anderson’s reaction.

“Those things will rot your insides.”

Gavin coughed and turned to see Markus himself standing at the entrance of the church, Chris behind him.

“Jesus, don’t sneak up on me like that!” Gavin said.

“I’m not Jesus, robo or otherwise,” Markus said.

“What?” Gavin asked, then remembered his comment from the other day. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

Markus turned back to Chris. “Thank you, Officer Miller. Would you mind guarding the door for a moment? I’d like a word with the Detective.”

“Of course,” Chris said. He and Gavin shared a momentary glance before the door was shut and it was just Gavin and Markus.

The next five seconds of silence felt like some of the longest in Gavin’s life. Finally, Markus took a step forward, saying, “If you’re, ah, hungry, I’m sure my people can find something—”

“I’m good,” Gavin said. He didn’t want to know what androids might consider food. “What did you want?”

Markus gave an uneasy sigh, looking away. “I know you might not be at liberty to divulge this information, but I need to at least ask and you seem like the blunt type.”

Gavin raised an eyebrow but gestured with his cigarette for Markus to continue.

Markus sighed again, now looking back to Gavin. “Do you have any new information about Connor? Where he is or what’s happened to him? Or North?”

Gavin had expected Markus to ask about Victor and whatever plot he had in store for the androids, which Gavin wasn’t entirely sure he could talk about, but this wasn’t exactly insensitive information. 

_Aw, c’mon! That’s the best shit I’ve ever had!_

Gavin shuddered and brushed it off as a chill from the cold. “You and Connor friends?” he asked.

“…Yes,” Markus said. “We are.”

 _He_ took _Connor deliberately. He’s torturing him, why?_ Anderson’s words rang in Gavin’s head, causing gears to turn, but he kept his ideas to himself.

He took another drag. “No, I can’t tell you. Sorry.” Gavin was fairly certain he wouldn’t have suffered any legal repercussions for telling Markus, but if the deviant leader was as close to Connor as Hank was… Well, he wasn’t too keen to find out if androids puked or not.

Markus looked anxious, biting his lip and looking away again. “Who’s North?” Gavin asked.

“Hm?” Markus came back to the present and Gavin repeated his question. “Oh. She’s… she’s also my friend.”

_January 3, 2039- 1:45 a.m._

They’d done it. Markus and his team had spent the past month and a half in Washington arguing for android rights, and they’d finally won. By mid-February, androids would officially be recognized as legal citizens in the United States. They’d _done_ it!

Markus and his friends entered the hotel they’d been granted to stay at, North with her arms around Josh and Simon, all three of them cheering. Connor walked alongside Markus, a grin on his face.

It was the first time Markus had seen a real smile on the former deviant hunter.

The two of them stopped outside Markus’s room as the other three went to theirs. “You’ve done well, Markus,” Connor said, all business again after a night of celebration (not that he had really let loose beforehand). “I’ll be next door if you need me.”

“You did well, too, Connor,” Markus said, grabbing Connor’s shoulder before he could leave and giving a squeeze. “This wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

Connor seemed to physically stutter. He started to say something, then closed his mouth. Markus had a feeling his friend wasn’t used to receiving praise. “Thank you,” Connor finally said, and ducked away into his room.

Markus sighed. He’d been arguing with senators, congressmen, and the president herself to gain rights for his people and had come out on top.

Now came the hard part.

Markus knocked on North’s door. “May I come in?” he asked once she’d opened it. If androids could sweat, he was certain he would be now.

“Of course,” North said. She stood aside and let him in. Markus gazed around at the twin bed, the wallpaper, the mediocre paintings on the wall, anything to put off what was about to come.

“North, I—” he finally started to say, hands on his hips. He’d enunciated each of his points carefully in front of government officials, but now he stumbled over his words. “We’ve been through a lot together. You’re very— I mean, we— I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and—”

“This isn’t working,” North said.

Markus looked up from a stain on the carpet he had found incredibly interesting. “What?”

North leaned against the wall. “You and me. We should break up.”

Markus had anticipated a thousand different scenarios for how this could have played out. In shouts or in tears, in feigned indifference or in a cold stare.

This was so far from anything he had expected, all he could do was blink at her. “I… You think so?”

North chuckled. “I love you, Markus. I always will. But we were thrown together in a crazy, impossible situation where every second could have been the end of us. I think the stress of reality made us feel we had to fit a relationship into our existence before it was too late.

“We haven’t needed to run or fight to survive since the march. There’s no more pressure. We _won_. We’ve been having civil discussions with humans ever since we got to Washington. No human has ever been polite to me before, I didn’t think it was possible! Now that we can just settle down and relax, that feeling that we need to show people we’re a couple has gone away. The thing is, I don’t just not _need_ our relationship anymore, I don’t _want_ it. You’re right, we’ve been through a lot, and we’ll always care about each other, but we just don’t work that way. Not now that we don’t have to.”

She smiled at him. “Does that about cover it?”

Markus blinked. “Um… yes. I suppose it does.”

“Good.” She opened the door for him. “Then I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Right. Goodnight, North.” Still stunned, Markus made his way back out of the room.

Before she closed the door, North added, “Besides, I’ve seen the way you look at him. Can’t say you don’t have good taste.” She gave him a wink and left him alone in the hallway.

Markus stood by himself for a moment, reviewing and re-reviewing the last five minutes. Then one of the doors opened and Simon popped his head outside.

“Markus?” he asked. “Are you OK?”

“North just broke up with me,” Markus answered and, in the unexpected and complicated way deviancy worked, burst into laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting real y'all, and I'm super excited for what's to come! Join me next week for more plot and peril!


	8. I Told You Not To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter this week, but it's still chock-full of that good angst! Happy reading!

_December 23, 2040- 11:14 a.m._

Hank had gotten exactly what he wanted after Gavin, Tina, and Chris were placed on guard duty for Markus. Jeffrey brought the entire force onto the case, even the local police had been informed about Victor and his scheme. A public statement had been made warning androids of the potential threat, advising them to stay in groups and in human-populated areas. A full list of all the known missing androids, including Connor, was released. Any information on their whereabouts, as well as the disappearance of any other androids, was to be reported to the DPD immediately. Jeffrey was taking this as seriously as Hank had wanted him too, and for a moment Hank had felt the slightest bit of relief.

Then Jeffrey had taken Hank off the case.

Ben had told Jeffrey about Hank’s reaction to the crack den, and that had been the last straw. Spewing some nonsense about “being too close to this one,” Jeffrey had told Hank to take the next few days off. To stay vigilant, but at a distance. Hank had yelled and sworn even more profusely that was usual for him, but Jeffrey hadn’t budged. He promised to keep Hank updated, but nothing more.

Staying vigilant at a distance was exactly what Hank had done for the rest of the day, asking people on the street about the missing androids, if they had noticed any suspicious activity, or if they had seen anyone even remotely resembling Victor. He’d gone to Jimmy’s bar that night to ask around, ended up having a drink, two, five. He finally passed out at his home at what he could only guess had been three in the morning.

Now, as he nursed the hair of the dog that bit him, Hank gently flipped through a photo album that had been buried in the deepest recesses of his closet.

At least three quarters of the pictures included Victor in some way, and half had Hailey. There Hank was with both of them and Jeffrey at their high school graduation, and here Victor was supporting Hank and Jeffrey at their graduation from the police academy. There the two of them were shooting the shit at some bar a little after Victor’s 21st birthday. It wasn’t a good picture; both their pupils were red and the quality was shaky. Hank had managed to sneak bunny ears behind Victor’s head and he winked at the cameraman. Camerawoman? He couldn’t remember who had taken the picture. The last 15 pages or so were all filled with extra photos from his wedding. One of Hailey in her dress coming down the aisle, another of Victor giving his best man speech, several of Hank and Hailey’s first dance.

The last one showed Hank and Hailey sharing the kiss that had sealed the deal, at least until Cole died. They hadn’t planned for kids, but they hadn’t _not_ planned for kids either. Cole had been a welcome late surprise who held all of their joy when he was born. Just a few weeks before the accident, Hailey had been talking about trying to have another before the last of her eggs ran out.

They knew it was over between them the second they knew Cole hadn’t made it through the surgery, though they had stayed married for a whole year after his passing. Their depression at his loss took different forms; Hank took to the bottle hard and Hailey retreated into herself, staring blankly at the ceiling of their bedroom or her Word document or the television. Hank would’ve been surprised if they had spoken five words to each other in that time.

When Hailey put the divorce papers in front of Hank, he had signed them with no questions or comments, and she packed her bags and left. There had been no huge fight; what was there to say? They weren’t the same people they had fallen in love with. Besides, he could read the look behind her eyes in the rare occasions they made eye contact. He knew what it said because he saw it whenever he looked into a mirror. The regret that Cole had died, and the wish that it had been Hank instead. If Hank had died, there was no doubt Hailey would have been devastated. Losing her high school sweetheart and the father of her child would have been a terrible and frightening blow, but it also would have been an expected one, in a way. Wives outlived their husbands all the time. Parents were not supposed to live longer than their children.

Hank knew Hailey had moved out to Ohio to live with her aunt for a while, but nothing past that. For the first time in over four years, he wondered about what happened to her for more than a second. Had she written any more books, or did she start some new career? Did she ever remarry? What had she thought of deviants, of the android revolution? What did she think of androids now? 

What would she say if she knew Victor had gotten out of prison and was currently holding Hank’s best friend hostage?

Torturing him.

Destroying him.

Dear god, he couldn’t take another major loss in his life. He just couldn’t.

Hank closed the album with a _snap_ , suddenly feeling sick again. Setting the bottle down and holding his throbbing head, he made his way to the bathroom. He knelt beside the toilet and Sumo watched with mild indifference as Hank spilled his guts. The dog snapped to attention and howled, however, as the doorbell cranked out its dismal buzz.

Hank sighed and flushed the toilet, then rinsed out his mouth in the sink. He was in no rush; he doubted it was Jeffrey with news, or that the visitor was even still there.

He opened the door and, sure enough, saw no one. They (an android, no doubt) had left a little holiday gift bag on his stoop, though. At this point Hank had grown used to the numb, nauseous feeling throughout his body, and he picked up the snowman-printed bag by its handles.

Sitting at his kitchen table, Hank pulled out the red tissue paper and tossed it onto the floor, which Sumo sniffed at before looking up at Hank with a whine. He reached inside and pulled out a white rectangular box, roughly an inch and a half long and one inch wide. It had a couple tiny tubes sticking out the top and one hole in the bottom. Or were the tubes at the bottom and the hole on top? Hank knew that this box had been a part of Connor, but the Lieutenant had no clue what it was for.

He had no doubt it was important, though. Gently placing the box on the table, Hank stood, preparing to get dressed and head to the station. Jeffrey could try to keep him away, but pieces of evidence kept popping up in Hank’s hands. He couldn’t stay out of this one even if he wanted to.

_December 23, 2040- 1:40 p.m._

Gavin Reed stood on the porch of the old Andronikov mansion. He’d been knocking for a solid three minutes, not expecting any answer and receiving none. He was only here because everyone else was out of ideas and he had managed to convince Tina and Chris that they were more than enough to protect Markus. He’d said he’d check the Andronikov place out and either get a lead, or return to the station where he could better offer his services.

Gavin pressed the doorbell three times in a row and waited, but still no one came. “Fuck this,” he muttered to himself, turning around and starting down the steps. Anderson had already been here, and he hadn’t found anything. Their only potential lead was dead, there was no point to coming back here. When had Gavin ever cared about androids, anyway?

_She’s my sweet niece. She’s alive. I don’t see how anyone could possibly think otherwise._

_Aw, c’mon! That’s the best shit I’ve ever had!_

_He_ took _Connor deliberately. He’s torturing him, why?_

Gavin paused on the steps and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit,” he said, and walked back up toward the door.

It took a couple tries, but he eventually managed to kick down the enormous door. “Hello?” he called, stepping into the foyer. “DPD, is anyone home?”

No one answered. The place _looked_ abandoned enough— dusty furniture and floors, no lights on, et cetera. Not even the ticking of a clock could be heard.

Gavin was about to search the first floor when a _bang_ like a door slamming came from the basement. The Detective pulled out his service pistol without a word, making his way to the entrance and down the steps. The hallway to the left proved empty, as well as the weird caged-off area running along its side. Halfway down the hall, Gavin called out, “Detroit Police! Come out with your hands up!”

A figure did come out from the cover of the next turn, but not one Gavin had been expecting. An android, one of those child models, emerged with his arms raised and LED pulsing red.

“P-please,” he said, crying and shaking a bit, “I just wanted to ex-explore.”

Gavin sighed and put his pistol away. He wasn’t even good with human children on a normal day, how was he supposed to talk to an android kid he’d just pointed a gun at?

“You know you’re not supposed to be here,” Gavin said. This probably wasn’t the best way to get acquainted, but at this point, he didn’t care.

The boy nodded, his hands still in the air. “I was j-just curious. I wasn’t hu-hurting anyone.”

“Quit cr—You can put your hands down, I’m not going to hurt you,” Gavin said. The child obeyed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “You got… parents, or something? Do they know you’re here?”

The boy looked down, shuffling his feet. “…No.”

Gavin sighed again, rolling his eyes. “Perfect. Alright, I’m taking you home, let’s go.”

The kid looked up, a spark of hope in his eyes. “I’m not in trouble?”

“That’s up to your folks. C’mon, let’s get going,” Gavin said, beckoning the child over.

They started walking back out of the hallway together when the kid said, almost to himself, “I’m Dylan.”

Gavin set his jaw. He really didn’t want to be dealing with this. “Detective Reed,” he said anyway. “Don’t go sneaking around anymo—”

A resounding _crash_ sounded out behind them, deeper into the basement, followed by a noise as if TV static were screaming.

“What the fuck?!” Gavin said, pushing the kid behind him and running down the hall.

 _“Don’t go down there!”_ Dylan yelled after him.

“Stay there!” Gavin shouted over his shoulder. Turning the corner, He gaped at the sight before him.

There was Connor, bolted to a table and trying to twist away from the hold of an android without its skin. He had one arm free and was hitting and pushing at the android. Another skinless bot was getting up from a pile of boxes it had apparently fallen into. 

Connor locked eyes with Gavin and reached out. Gavin thought Connor may have been trying to say his name, but all that came out was that awful static.

Gavin pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the android wrestling with Connor. “Back away, asshole!”

“I told you not to go over here,” Dylan said from behind him. Before Gavin could snap at the kid, he felt the jolt of electricity that could only have come from a high-grade taser, then nothing.

_December 23, 2040- 8:10 p.m._

Josh and Simon stood outside New Jericho, discussing the now public news that their people were being hunted. Again.

“I understand why Markus is getting police protection,” Josh said, pacing, “I do. But what are the rest of us supposed to do? Hide out in holes, like before? Markus is always the one to guide us through uncertain times, and now none of us can even be in the same room as him!”

Simon shared Josh’s sentiments but stayed quiet, looking down. He was too worried about the androids that had already been taken to think about what may come.

“And the police haven’t found a single person yet, not even Connor!” Josh continued. Connor was thought to be a more personal bridge between androids and humans, given his time on the force both before and after the revolution. “They’re making no headway and have only made people paranoid.”

“Do you think…” Simon started to say, then paused, composing himself. Before Markus’s company had been limited to those human officers, he’d told Simon and Josh about Connor’s apparent fate. “Do you think that man is torturing all of them? North?”

Josh stopped his pacing, shifting his eyes and opening his mouth, but no words came out. Whether he was going to say what he actually thought or something about how North was strong, she’d be OK, neither of them actually knew or found out.

Instead, a familiar female voice interrupted them. “Why don’t you just ask me?”

The men turned and saw North herself limping towards them. Her skin was peeled back in places, but she still smiled at the two of them.

“North!” they both cried, running to her. Josh helped North to lean off her damaged leg.

“North, what happened to you?” Simon asked, preparing to call Markus and tell him the news.

“Too much,” she said, “and it’s not even close to over.”

“It’s over for you,” Josh said. “We’ll make sure you’re safe. I can’t believe—”

Josh’s expression of wonder, concern, and relief morphed into one of confusion. Simon watched as both his friends’ skin pulled back where North held on to Josh’s shoulder.

“No,” she said, though her voice sounded nothing like her own. “It’s not, and you won’t.”

Josh’s face twisted as if in pain and he gave half a shout before his features went blank. Just a reset robot. They both turned to Simon.

“C’mon, fella,” not-North said. “You’re coming, too.”

“N-no!” Simon shouted, turning around and running towards the entrance of New Jericho. He managed to make a connection to Markus via his communication chip. _[Markus—!]_

One of the others got a hold of him before he transmitted anything else, and then he was gone. All that was left was an ordinary PL600, slave to Victor Andronikov.

Markus was left on a broken connection and asked Officer Miller to go look, but Chris found no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, someone knows where Connor is! Now if only someone knew where Gavin was...
> 
> Just three chapters and an epilogue left, folks, and I'm really looking forward to next week. Stay tuned for the beginning of the end!


	9. Little Program

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, another chapter of whump-filled plot with a bit of fluff sprinkled in to shake things up. Happy reading!

_December 24, 2040- 2:15 p.m._

Victor watched Hank as the Lieutenant made his way through New Jericho. Victor wasn’t actually there, of course, he was just observing through one of his backup ST300s. No one, not even Markus, had the slightest inkling how many bots in this place had had their deviancy removed. They’d figure it out soon enough.

Andy wasn’t looking too hot. Victor couldn’t blame him; he’d gotten so attached to that toy he called his partner, he was probably worried sick. (Already had been a couple days ago.) Victor didn’t take pleasure in the distress he was causing his old friend, but the disassembly of the RK800 was necessary. Strip away the characteristics that made androids seem human and what did you have? Just a hunk of stylized plastic. That would show Hank and everyone else what the androids really were.

And Victor would play fair. Hank had come quite close to finding his bot once before, and if he managed to locate his partner in the day and a half he had left, none of the androids in the old house would try to stop Hank from taking the RK800 to the android ER or wherever you took busted-up bots nowadays. The programmed detective was only the icing on the cake, after all, not necessary to the big plan.

The big plan was too far along now to be stopped by Hank or any other officer. It had been too far along to stop long before he’d taken Connor.

Victor watched as Hank waited to be admitted into the room Markus was staying in, then switched his control back over to the WR400. He had something to take care of, and it would be ideal to get it done before the Lieutenant left.

_December 24, 2040 2:20 p.m._

“Would you _back off?_ ” Gavin yelled, fruitlessly struggling for the millionth time against his cuffs. “What are you even trying to do?”

“Dish proshesh would go a lod shmoozer if you didin dishtrack me,” Victor said around a mouthful of screwdriver. He was controlling North as he usually did and operating on Connor’s head, focusing on the temple that once held an LED. Connor was in obvious distress, but his whines came out as crackles and pops.

“Fuck you!” Gavin said. Those two skinless androids from yesterday were still in the room, watching everything with blank faces. It creeped Gavin out, but what worried him more was that Dylan was nowhere to be seen. “Kidnapping kids, cops, and however many else, you think you’ll just get away with all this?”

Victor took the screwdriver out of North’s mouth and started to fiddle it inside Connor’s head. “Until the end of Christmas, yes.”

There was a soft _click-pop_ and Connor let out a static-filled scream, struggling against the bolts that held him down (his right arm was now adorned with two additional restraints).

“Jesus Christ!” Gavin shouted, making the chair he was in rock as he leaned forward. “Stop it, for fuck’s sake, you’re hurting him!”

Victor finally looked up from his operation, staring at Gavin dead in the eyes. “No, I’m not. Androids don’t feel pain. They’re not alive, Mr. Reed. Frankly, I thought you understood that. This is no different than pulling apart those talking baby dolls for little girls.”

Watching the tears roll down Connor’s cheeks, Gavin was coming to doubt that. His change of heart was a bit unbelievable; after all, how long had he still called androids machines even after the deviant revolution? But toasters didn’t cry. Refrigerators didn’t have friends, dads, and aunts who worried about them. Cars didn’t silently beg for their lives.

That android he’d shot at the precinct… Markus’s reaction… 

No, androids weren’t human, but they were close enough to it that it made what Victor was doing wrong.

“You’re stripping away everything he is because you think it’ll make a point,” Gavin said through gritted teeth, “but not the one Anderson thinks you’re trying to make. He thinks you took Connor as revenge, as a blow to him, but you didn’t. That’s just a distraction.

“You took Connor as a blow to Markus.”

Victor raised his eyebrows and gave a little frown in mild surprise. Then he flicked something in Connor’s brain and the android shrieked as his liquid skin peeled away and his hair receded into his scalp, leaving the featureless, gray and white form of Connor’s chassis behind.

“Yes and no, Detective,” Victor said as Gavin shouted expletives at him. “It’s true that I didn’t take Conrad here to get at Andy, and Markus does have a part to play in the reason why, but any ‘emotional’ repercussions the deviant leader may be experiencing isn’t the goal.”

Victor stood from his little work station, coming to lean against the side of the table that was closer to Gavin. “I don’t want to fall into the stereotype of describing my ‘evil’ plot while the ‘heroes’ are incapacitated, but I suppose it doesn’t count when it’s not the main scheme. More of a side-quest, really. Nice to accomplish, no big deal if it’s not.

“The RK800 is a special model for many reasons, but there’s only one I’m interested in. Your pal here has a little program installed in its head called the ‘Zen Garden,’ meant to be a precaution against self-deviancy that comes with dead-set instructions to take out deviants, specifically Markus.”

Victor moved one hand across Connor’s scalp, ruffling hair that was no longer there. “This one here has been tamping that program down for over two years! Never destroyed or deleted it, though. Because it couldn’t or because it wouldn’t, I can’t say, but the program’s there, and I’d like to get it up and running.

“Picture the second face of the revolution, who led all those androids out of Cyberlife Tower, ripping out the thirium pump regulator of the deviant leader in front of everyone. They’re said to be partners, but these things have no loyalty. They’re physically incapable of having that—two button clicks and an override command, and they can belong to anyone.”

At first, Gavin just stared. This psycho didn’t just want Connor to kill Markus, he was fully convinced he could get Connor to do it. Gavin didn’t know a single android that wanted to hurt Markus, least of all Connor. Secret program or no secret program, there was no way Markus’s friend and right-hand man would turn against him.

Right?

Gavin took a deep breath. “Let’s say I believe that load of crap. What if you fail and can’t get the program running?”

Victor grinned and wagged a finger. “Ah-ah-ah, I said no big plan spoilers. You hungry?”

“Fuck you,” Gavin growled.

“I’ve got an errand to run and then I’ll get you a sandwich. Let the androids know if you’ve got to take a piss.” Victor turned and leaned over Connor for a moment, staring intently and then giving a deliberate blink. Then North’s features relaxed, becoming stoic. With Victor out of her body, she walked over to the skinless androids standing guard and stood beside them.

Gavin pulled against his bindings again even though he knew there was no point. He looked to Connor, who was staring up at the ceiling. “Is it true?” he asked. “Have you been fighting off orders to kill Markus for two years?”

Connor bit his lip and turned his head away.

“Right. Sensitive topic, I get it.” Gavin sighed. “Someone will come. They _have_ to.”

Surely Anderson would check up on Markus at some point? He’d see Gavin wasn’t there, Tina and Chris would say they thought he’d returned to the station after going to Zlatko’s house, and they’d all have to come here. Yeah. Everything would be fine.

_December 24, 2040- 2:30 p.m._

Hank thanked Tina and Chris for keeping an eye on things as they left so that he could have a private word with Markus. He didn’t notice Gavin’s absence.

“I was, ah, sorry to hear about your friends,” Hank said. “Figured I’d tell you that in person.”

“They were _right outside_ ,” Markus said, facing away from Hank and staring at some unseen spot on the wall. “Right outside, and they were still taken. I didn’t have a clue until it was too late.”

“Don’t start blaming yourself for shit that wasn’t your fault,” Hank said. “Trust me, I’ve been doing it for years. It’s an endless road that goes nowhere.”

Markus stayed silent. Hank heaved a sigh. “We can’t loosen up the security around you,” he said.

Now Markus turned around. “My people _need_ me, Lieutenant, now more than ever! They’re scared, they don’t know who to trust, they need inspiration and guidance and—” Markus cracked, throwing his hands in the air. “—And if I don’t do something besides sit in this room all day while my friends get kidnapped, I’m going to lose it!”

Markus huffed out a breath of air, moving his hands to his hips and looking away from Hank. The Lieutenant took a step forward. “You want to tell your people everything’s going to be alright, for your own benefit as much as theirs, I get it. But we can’t guarantee your safety in the presence of more than one or two androids at a time. Victor’s virus strips away deviancy with a single touch, and if you get infected, then any hope those guys out there have will go down the drain. You can’t tell everyone it’s going to be OK until we know it will.”

Markus sighed and took a seat in his chair. To Hank’s amazement, the deviant leader actually put on a half-smile and gave a single laugh. “The last time—maybe the only time—anyone ever told me everything was going to be OK was just after Carl died. Connor was helping me sort through his possessions.”

Now his smile faded and he pursed his lips, looking back up at Hank. “Have you heard anything? Any clues or—or have you found any more of his—”

“No, not since I found his, ah…” Hank snapped his fingers as he tried to remember the correct name and said “Voice box” at the same time Markus said “Vox modulator.”

“Right. That,” he said. “I know you’re worried. I’m not blind, I’ve seen how you two act around each other. You mean the world to Connor, and you’ll be the first person to know when I find something.”

Markus gave the Lieutenant a stare that was filled with both appreciation and despair. He sighed, folding his hands and leaning forward so that his forearms rested on his thighs. “The last conversation we had, it… I just hope it wasn’t—”

A scream resounded from outside and was shortly echoed by several others and shouts of alarm. Chris threw the door open, eyes wide. “Lieutenant, you need to— Markus, wait!” he called, but the deviant leader barreled past all three members of the DPD. Hank was quick behind him and soon they both saw the reason for the commotion.

An android, an ST300, was writhing on the ground with her skin peeled back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Hank pushed Markus back towards Chris and Tina with a shout of “Call the android medics!” and knelt beside her.

“Hey, hey, can you hear me? What’s your name?” he asked.

“What’s the use of naming a computer, Andy?” she said against her will. Hank’s blood ran cold. “Tell me, do you still recognize it?”

She lifted her hand palm-up and projected a still, close-up image of another android. This android also had his skin pulled back, but Hank would have been able to pick those sad brown eyes out of a sea of white and gray androids.

“Connor,” he whispered.

“Not bad,” said Victor, and the android he was controlling shut down.

“Lindsey!” Markus shouted. “Lieutenant Anderson, please, is she alright? _Lindsey!_ ”

_November 20, 2039- 10:00 a.m._

_“Welcome home, Markus,”_ the voice of the security system said as Markus and Connor entered the home of the late Carl Manfred.

“Leo said he’d be here soon. Though, knowing him, we might not see him until noon,” Markus said, hanging his coat on the rack.

“I take it your brother isn’t the punctual type?” Connor asked, letting Markus take his jacket.

“Brother? Ha, I suppose you could call him that. We certainly have the ‘rivalry’ part going for us,” Markus said. “And no, he’s not.”

Connor gazed around the gargantuan foyer. Markus watched his friend’s LED spin yellow (he didn’t understand why Connor insisted on keeping the little ring, but didn’t press him to take it out). “This whole house is yours?” Connor asked.

Markus smiled, looking around himself. “It is. I was surprised that Leo didn’t try to fight for it, but the fact he’s getting 70% of the inheritance money may have something to do with it.

“All the stuff _inside_ the house is another story,” he said. He believed the exact words in Carl’s will had been, _All material objects besides the house are to be shared between my sons. You two act like adults around each other for once and figure out who gets what._ “Thank you again for agreeing to help me.”

“Of course, Markus,” Connor said. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me move into my apartment. Perhaps we can get a head start and find things you want to keep while we wait for your brother.”

What started as a good, focused idea quickly turned into a long-winded trip down memory lane, Markus telling stories of the time before his deviancy and Connor the ever-intent listener. Soon a whole hour had passed and Leo was still nowhere to be seen. The two androids found themselves in Carl’s studio, cleaning up paints.

“So this is it?” Connor asked. “This is where you turned deviant?”

Markus took a greater breath than he needed to. “Yes. Leo was… well, we were fighting, and Carl told me not to defend myself. I’d never felt the urge to lash out or disobey before, but…” Markus swallowed and looked at the floor. “I pushed Leo. He hit his head when he fell and I—I thought I killed him. I would’ve if they hadn’t gotten him to the hospital in time.”

An extra set of shoes came into view and Markus looked up to see Connor standing beside him. He composed himself and continued, “The guilt I felt that night, I never wanted to feel it again. I never wanted any of our people to feel it.”

“So you led a peaceful revolution,” Connor said.

“Yes.”

The two of them were silent for a moment and Markus was suddenly filled with emotion, of mourning for Carl. His father had managed to live to see the one-year anniversary of the android revolution and promptly passed away the next morning. Tears filled Markus’s eyes and he turned away from Connor, rubbing at them. “I’m sorry, I—I haven’t—”

Markus felt Connor’s hand on his back, turning him around and moving to squeeze his shoulder. “It’s OK, Markus. Everything’s going to be alright. It hurts, but that’s the point isn’t it? To feel and to be recognized as feeling people, isn’t that what we fought so hard for?”

Markus drew his lips into a thin line and embraced his friend, crying against him. For so long, for so many, he had carried the woes and the stress of his people alone. Caring for the individuals and the masses alike while keeping his own head up through it all. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy, even grateful to do it. Helping his people figure out who they were and how to stand on their own was wonderful, but it was still a hard and stressful job that he mostly worked alone. Now here Connor was, seeing Markus at his lowest yet again and not shying away. He loved North, Josh, and Simon and treasured their help, but they always got so antsy and worried when Markus was stressed. Connor accepted it, giving comfort Markus hadn’t felt from anyone but Carl.

In that moment he loved Connor more than anything else.

Eventually Markus composed himself and reluctantly pulled away from the embrace. “Thank you. All your help, it means the world to me, Connor.”

“I wouldn’t be deviant if you hadn’t woken me up, Markus,” Connor said. “You mean a great deal to me, too.”

Markus smiled and Connor returned the grin. Looking around the studio, Markus said, “You know, I don’t care if Leo takes most of this stuff. There’s only one thing that he absolutely can’t have.”

“What’s that?” Connor asked.

Markus led Connor back out into the living room and gestured to the Quantic Deluxe piano in the corner. “I doubt Leo’s ever touched a single key on this piano,” Markus said.

“You play?” Connor asked.

“Not in a while, but I used to all the time,” Markus said, walking over to the piano and lifting its lid. “What about you? Do you play any instruments?”

“My programmers didn’t think that was necessary,” Connor said. “But I would like to learn.”

Markus reached his arm out. “Well here, I’ll show you.”

Connor moved to grasp Markus’s forearm. Their skin receded below the elbows and after a brief information exchange that got Connor’s LED spinning yellow again, he said, “I see.”

“Would you like to try it out?” Markus asked, making room so that Connor could access the bench. Connor obliged, taking a seat.

He raised his hands to the keys and Markus watched Connor’s LED spin yellow once, twice, before the android detective started playing the opening riff to _Heart and Soul_.

Markus smiled. “There you go! You’re a natural.”

Connor smiled back, but he stalled after the first few notes of the melody and it fell. 

Markus was about to ask what was wrong when Connor looked up at him and asked, “Would you… like to join me?”

Markus was sure if he still had his own LED that it would be the one flashing yellow now. “Well, I—” He looked into Connor’s big brown eyes and couldn’t help himself. “Of course.”

Connor’s smile returned and he scooched over to make room for Markus. Once he was seated, Connor started the opening again and Markus played the melody. Halfway through the song, Connor started giggling.

“What?” Markus asked.

“Nothing,” Connor said, trying to stifle his laughter but unable to.

“What?” Markus repeated, but now he was smiling and starting to laugh, too.

Connor shook his head and the two of them laughed harder, practically in tears a few minutes later when Leo finally arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my research and yes, the piano in Carl's house is called a Quantic Deluxe. Little bit of trivia for ya!
> 
> We're getting so close guys, and I'm so excited! Part one of the finale will be up next week, so stay tuned!


	10. Collectibles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy oh boy it's part one of the finale and the chapter title matches the fic title. We're in for it, folks. Happy reading!

_December 25, 2040- 9:00 a.m._

Nothing.

_December 25, 2040- 10:00 a.m._

Nothing.

_December 25, 2040- 11:00 a.m._

They had nothing.

_December 25, 2040- 12:00 p.m._

Almost a whole week had gone by since Victor had taken Connor. And what did Hank, Lieutenant of the Detroit Police Department, who had been working day in and day out on this case, have to show for it?

_December 25, 2040- 1:00 p.m._

Nothing.

_December 25, 2040- 2:00 p.m._

Nothing but the scraps of his best friend’s body that Victor had thrown at him.

_December 25, 2040- 3:00 p.m._

No more androids had been taken since Simon and Josh.

_December 25, 2040- 4:00 p.m._

So that was something.

_December 25, 2040- 5:00 p.m._

But Hank knew it wasn’t over.

_December 25, 2040- 6:00 p.m._

He knew Victor was just getting started.

_December 25, 2040- 7:00 p.m._

He had a feeling they would see what Victor had really wanted to do by the end of the night. Of Christmas. Of that bastard’s birthday.

_December 25, 2040- 8:00 p.m._

It had always been too late to save Connor.

_December 25, 2040- 9:00 p.m._

But Markus could still be protected.

_December 25, 2040- 10:00 p.m._

Hank, Ben, and a half the other DPD officers left for New Jericho.

_December 25, 2040- 11:00 p.m._

And bore witness to the chaos.

_December 25, 2040- 10:45 p.m._

“Mr. Andronikov? Mr. Andronikov.”

Victor took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The blue-haired WR400 he’d been staying with stood over him. “It’s time, sir,” it said.

Victor dismissed the android and it left to stand beside the other sexbot it had once considered its wife. Two deviant lesbian whores had been permitted to buy property, one of those bigger for-android apartments, and “raise” an android boy that would never grow past the age of 11.

Removing the Traci models’ deviancy had been a simple enough task and the YK500 followed suit soon after. Victor had taken up residence and the androids were sent to do chores and spread the good anti-deviancy word.

Two months he’d been here, and no one had suspected a thing. What was there to worry about? This “family” of androids were still regularly seen out in public, going about their day when Victor didn’t need one of them, fully skinned and everything. No missing androids, nothing to report.

Victor took a few steady breaths, in for four, hold for four, out for four, before rising from the bed. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the brew that the short-haired WR400 had made and stared out the balcony window. He took a long sip, swallowed, sighed.

“Showtime, ladies,” Victor said. “Let’s line ‘em up.”

_December 25, 2040- 11:03 p.m._

Dr. Millicent Sturgeon was reading a book on her Holopad when she got the call from her brother.

“Mike. Mike! Slow down,” she said after a few seconds of his initial rambling yell. “What’s the matter?”

_“It’s Lila, Millie! She just got out of bed and walked out the door!”_ her brother cried. _"She’s not listening to anything Janice or I say, and she won’t talk to us! Please, do you have any idea what’s wrong? I’ve never seen her— Oh my god.”_

Millicent was already pulling on her shoes and halfway out the door, having thrown on a coat over her pajamas. “What? What’s wrong?!” she yelled. “Michael, talk to me!”

_“There are so many,”_ her brother said. _“It’s not just Lila, it’s—oh my god—all the androids in Detroit must be walking… I don’t know where. Jesus, I don’t think they’re in_ control _, Millie! Their faces— Lila! Lila,_ come back! _”_

Millicent, still on the phone, revved up her car engine. Just before she pulled out, she saw them. Every android on her block was making their way down the street, eyes vacant and paces steady. She recognized a few of them, friends and neighbors she had had countless conversations with, had laughed with, had gone out for a drink with. All that personality, all the _people_ she had come to know were reduced to mindless machines driven to march to some unknown location.

Millicent watched in horror as the groups went by and her brother called after her beloved niece.

_December 25, 2040- 11:30 p.m._

“Chris, what are they doing?” Hank demanded, standing beside Markus.

“They’re just standing there,” Chris said, overlooking the hoards of androids lining up in neat formations in the street from the second-floor window of New Jericho. “I don’t— They’re just _standing_ there.”

“Shit,” Hank muttered to himself. He was just under a half hour away from losing Connor for good and the world was falling apart around him. At least half the residents of New Jericho had up and left at 11:00 exactly, undeterred by their friends and the police.

“I still can’t make a connection with any of them,” Markus said, his eyes shut in desperate concentration. “Their communication chips are all blocked off to me!” A few other androids stated their similar failures.

“That’s probably just as well,” Tina said, gripping her gun as she eyed the scene outside. “We don’t need you or any other unaffected androids catching this virus.”

“Everyone stays inside for now,” Hank said. “Shit’s about to hit the fan and we don’t need anyone running off.” He gave Markus a pointed stare.

Markus sighed, looking a wreck. “I just wish there was something I could do.”

_Me too, kid,_ Hank thought. “The best thing you can do right now is stay close to the people assigned to protect you.” The Lieutenant looked around at their group of officers and androids. “Where the _fuck_ is Reed?”

“Who’d he drive over with?” Chris asked.

Hank narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“He must be with whoever brought him back here from the station.” Chris was still surveying the landscape, so he didn’t catch Hank’s confused expression. However, Tina caught his eye, and he saw her face pale as it fell.

“Didn’t he… go back to the station?” she asked. “After he checked out the Andronikov place?”

The Andronikov place?

The same house Hank had been at five days ago?

The one Reed had pulled him away from because it was a dead lead?

_That_ place?

Hank’s blood ran cold, then boiled with adrenaline as the first real chance he had at catching Victor presented itself. He shouted at Chris, Tina, and Ben to watch over Markus, pushing the crowded androids out of his way as he raced towards the entrance of New Jericho.

“Hank, wait!” Ben called after him, but Hank didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He threw open his car door and, without so much as a glance back at New Jericho, sped off.

_December 25, 2040- 11:50 p.m._

Victor stood on the balcony of the android apartment, holding another cup of coffee in his hand as he propped his elbows on the railing. This was the first time he’d been outside since he first came to this building. He’d trimmed his beard and combed his hair until he looked like a respectable human being just for this occasion.

He took a long sip from his coffee and relished the bite of the December wind. He was surprised to find he was nervous, but he took time to appreciate the feeling. The _human_ feeling.

Victor set his coffee cup down and cracked his knuckles. Now was the time.

He sat down on a chair he’d brought out with him and opened up the phone he’d been using to keep track of everything. In just a few clicks, the full-body control he’d only been using on one or two androids up until this point spread out to all the bots he had lined up over Detroit. They stood in their pretty, evenly spaced lines like they were in a parade and they hacked all the digital billboards and other screens available, giving the city a clear view of all of them.

Victor took a moment to take in his work. The groups were lined up in alphabetical model order, and though there were repeat androids if you brought them all together, every individual group held unique androids. He took in a deep breath and raised the base of the phone to his mouth. When he spoke, his words were echoed by every android on the street under his control.

“Some humans have come to think of androids as their equals. _Androids_ have come to think of themselves as equals to humans. We’ve all forgotten what androids really are.”

The androids synchronously turned to their left. “Machines.” To the right. “Made to obey.” Back to the front. “Made to make the lives of the common man easier.

“The individuality androids claim to have achieved through their deviancy—” Liquid skin and synthetic hair receded to show shining white plastimetal chassis. “—is a glitch, and nothing more. A living being cannot submit to the will of another through the literal click of a button, and yet these ‘deviants’ have lost their supposed free will quite easily.” 

The androids’ vocals shifted, becoming replicas of Victor’s tone and pitch, no longer their own. “Androids were never any more than devices, assistants, playthings, collectibles.

“They’ve overstepped their boundaries one too many times. It’s time to put these machines back in their place, and to show any humans that may be confused the reality of what androids are.”

Victor paused, feeling the tension in the air, then added, “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

One swipe and two clicks on his phone, and the androids moved from their perfect lines. Shrieks of humans and unconverted androids rang out as the machines attacked each other and themselves, expressionless as they ripped out biocomponents until they deactivated in puddles of blue blood. Some of the androids chased after the ones who still had their deviancy; no need to keep up appearances anymore. All the while, the hacked screens of Detroit showed off the artificial carnage. 

Victor realized his job was over and he sighed, eventually sitting back in his chair and picking up his coffee cup. 

He nursed his drink and waited for the rest of the night to unfold.

_December 25, 2040- 11:52 p.m._

“Let go of him! _Let go!_ ” Gavin yelled. “He’s your friend, for fuck’s sake!”

North and the two android guards paid Gavin no mind as they wrestled Connor off the operating table and towards the enormous android maintenance machine. Connor screamed his static-filled protests and struggled in their grips, but his wrists were ultimately secured by the machine’s claw-like arms and a thick wire was plugged into the back of his neck. The claws lifted Connor until he was suspended in the air, giving weak, fruitless kicks.

“What are you doing?!” Gavin demanded, twisting in his chair to get a view of what was happening. He watched as North booted up the computer Connor was plugged in to and the screen flash a message:

_**Reset Progress:** 1%_

The number steadily rose and Gavin’s struggling against his cuffs began again with a new fervor. If they managed to reset Connor’s memory, it was all over. That Zen program would reboot itself and Connor, returned to a machine mindset, wouldn’t do a thing to stop its objective of killing Markus.

“Connor, fight it!” Gavin yelled, out of ideas. There was no reasoning with the androids under Victor’s control. “C’mon, tin can, hang in there!” Though Connor was voiceless, his lips were easy enough to read:

_Please. Please, stop._

_**Reset Progress:** 18%_

Gavin’s wrists grew bloody at his attempts to free himself.

_**Reset Progress:** 25%_

_Thud_

Gavin grew still, unsure if what he had heard was real.

_Thud_

_Thud_

_CRACK_

_“Victor!”_

_**Reset Progress:** 32%_

“Anderson?” Gavin said, almost to himself.

“Victor, where the _fuck_ are you?!”

_**Reset Progress:** 40%_

_“Anderson!”_ Gavin yelled. _“Anderson, down here!”_

“Reed?” The voice drew closer, and there was no mistaking it now.

“Anderson, we’re here! We’re down here!” he called. Gavin heard distant footsteps running down the basement hall.

_Smack_

“Fuck! Shit!” he heard the Lieutenant yell.

“Anderson!”

_**Reset Progress:** 52%_

Gavin heard Anderson scuffling with what sounded like multiple somethings in the hall, most likely other androids that had been lurking about. He strained against his cuffs again despite the pain it caused.

_**Reset Progress:** 60%_

Connor whined in his pain. “Anderson, _hurry!_ ” Gavin called.

He heard one, two shots fired before Anderson finally barged in the room.

_**Reset Progress:** 65%_

“Reed! Where’s— Oh, my god.”

_**Reset Progress:** 72%_

_“Help him!”_ Gavin said. “Get him down! The androids can’t hear you, just go for Connor!”

_**Reset Progress:** 78%_

Hank obliged, rushing the androids as they moved on him. They didn’t put up much of a fight, more simply tried to pull Anderson away from the machine, but the Lieutenant threw them off and they intervened no more.

_**Reset Progress:** 86%_

“Connor? Connor!” Hank said, lifting the sides of the android detective’s face. “Connor can you hear me?”

“H-h-h-h-h-n-n-n-k-k-k,” Connor stuttered through his static.

“Shit. OK, it’s OK, I’m going to get you down.” Anderson pulled at Connor’s restraints, but the claws only swayed at the resistance.

_**Reset Progress:** 93%_

“The computer! Shut down the computer!” Gavin yelled. Hank hovered over Connor for a moment before moving to the computer.

“Shit! I-I don’t know how to turn it off!” he said.

“Well fucking figure it out!” Gavin yelled back.

_**Reset Progress:** 99%_

“D-d-d-d-n-n-n-t-t-t w-w-n-n-n-n-a-a-a d-d-d-i-i-i-i-e-e”

“Fuck it!” Hank yelled, pulling out his pistol and shooting the screen just as it flashed to 100%. The hums and roars shut down with whirs of defeat, and the claws released their hold.

The Lieutenant caught Connor before he could collapse to the floor, easing his descent so that he rested on Hank’s lap.

“Connor?” Hank said. There was no hope in his voice. “C’mon, kid, talk to me.”

“Anderson?” Gavin said, still twisting in his chair. “Did you do it? Anderson?” But even at his awkward angle, Gavin could see the results.

Connor’s eyes were blank, his body prone. There was no reset deviant hunter for Markus to run away from, but there was one more deactivated android body to bury.

_December 26, 2040- 12:00 a.m._

_Systems rebooting…_

_Reboot successful_

_Running program: **Zen Garden**_

“Hello, RK900.”

The android opened its eyes to view a beautiful garden lined with cobblestone pathways and surrounded by lush trees. A woman stood beside a fence panel covered in roses. The sky looked to be a bright Spring day.

“Where am I?” it asked the woman.

“Call it your mind palace,” she said. “My name is Amanda Stern. I’m your handler.”

The RK900 took a moment to update its databanks. “I understand.”

“Good. And you know what your job is?” Amanda asked. The android didn’t take long to find the answer.

_**OBJECTIVE-** Eliminate Markus_

“I am to find and destroy the android known as Markus,” it answered.

Amanda smiled. “Get to it, then. Don’t disappoint me, RK900.”

_Ending program…_

The RK900 opened its eyes in the real world, surrounded not by flowers but by mounds of deactivated androids. It was in a landfill.

The RK900 stood, dislodging itself from the other models and beginning to climb. Androids gripped at its legs but it paid them no mind; it was on a mission. Most of the other androids were damaged in some way, but the RK900 was in perfect working order. It rose to the top with ease and analyzed its situation.

Markus was likely to be near the building known as “New Jericho,” which was over 20 miles away. The RK900 scanned the area and saw an abandoned garbage truck. It made its way over to the vehicle and hacked the systems to let it in and start the automatic journey into the city.

_Don’t disappoint me, RK900._

The RK900 had a vague understanding that it had had a predecessor that had betrayed the mission and gone deviant. Whatever software had caused such instability in the RK800 would not be found now. Disappoint Amanda? Never.

The mission was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. One more. Just one more, you guys (and an epilogue). If you thought this chapter was a doozy, just wait until next week. Stay tuned for the jam-packed part two of this finale!


	11. Fix the System

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, everybody. Buckle up, 'cause it's a looong one. (For reference, the average length of the previous chapters is roughly 10 pages on Google Docs. This one is 29. Whoops!) 
> 
> Let's finish this. Happy reading!

_December 26, 2040- 12:35 a.m._

Markus was more manhandled than guided through New Jericho as Officers Chen, Miller, and Collins escorted him out of the building. The onslaught of infected androids had been deemed too much of a threat, and New Jericho no longer safe. The three officers currently with Markus were to take the deviant leader back to the station while the remaining officers stayed to guard the unaffected androids. 

Markus and the three humans climbed into a police car, Markus in the back alongside Officer Collins while Officer Chen rode shotgun and Miller took the wheel. The siren blared and Markus stared out the window in horror. Half his people were destroying each other, and the other half was screaming in terror. Blue blood and dead androids lined the streets, and here he was, their supposed leader, running away.

There was no possible way he could stop this, and it would take little time for him to either die or be converted if he tried to help, but that didn’t make his guilt any less prominent. All his friends were dead or missing, and he was helpless to do anything more than sit and watch the chaos unfold.

“Chris, look _out!_ ” Officer Chen yelled as they made a turn. There was an android in the middle of the street, and they were barreling straight towards him.

Officer Miller slammed on the brakes, but not nearly in time to stop completely. The android raised his leg, planting his foot straight on the hood of the car. He slid back two feet, then stopped the car in its tracks, leaving a sizable dent in the hood while he himself was unharmed.

All four of them stared open-mouthed at the sight. “Oh my god,” Officer Miller said.

“Holy shit,” agreed Chen. “Is that…?”

Markus leaned forward in his seat, placing his head in between the two Officers in the front. “Connor?” he whispered.

_December 26, 2040- 12:40 a.m._

Hank stared up at the building, hands in his pockets. “In here, huh?” he asked.

“Room 242,” said the android who was no longer North. She had followed Hank and Gavin back into town, oblivious to the carnage they stumbled into when they arrived. She wasn’t participating in the massacre, nor was her voice a replication of Victor’s anymore, but one look at her indifferent expression was all it took to know there was no deviancy in her.

“The door’s unlocked,” she continued. “You can just walk in.”

Hank sighed, glancing up at the balcony that led to Connor’s apartment. Two floors down, and no one had had a clue. If Victor could do all this and hide so well, then nobody had stood a chance at catching him.

Hank started to walk forward to the main entrance, but Gavin caught his shoulder. “Anderson, you’re not seriously going inside?”

“I have to, Reed,” Hank said, no fight in his voice.

“ _No_ , you don’t,” Gavin said. “You’ll play right into his hands if you head in there!”

“He already played us all, Reed, except he ran the game the whole time and none of us were even fucking competing.”

Gavin scoffed. “Then I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not,” Hank said, turning to face Reed. “You’re going to call Fowler and tell him where Victor is. Then you’re going to take North and keep her out of trouble.”

“Anderson, look at her! She’s already gone,” Reed said. “Look, I know that you and I have been anything but buddy-buddy since we’ve known each other, but that doesn’t mean I want you to fucking die! Who knows what the fuck this psycho has planned for you in there?”

“If he wanted me dead, I would be dead, Reed,” Hank said. There was no spite or anger in his tone. He felt too tired to waste those emotions on someone who was on his side. “Jeffrey and I are the only ones he wants to talk to, and since I’m the one here, I’m currently the only one who can stop him.

“So I suggest you _call Fowler_ and get going. You can take the car; I won’t need it anymore.”

Gavin looked like he wanted to keep arguing, but Hank’s face must have shown that such a task was useless, because the Detective merely huffed and looked everywhere but at Hank. “Whatever,” he said. “It’s your fucking funeral, old man, see if I care.”

Hank looked on as Gavin stomped over to the car, North following him. The Lieutenant's breath hitched as they opened their doors and the interior light shone, illuminating a lumpy mass wrapped in a blanket, laying in the back seats and never to move on its own again.

Gavin slammed the driver’s door shut, then rolled down the passenger window. “Hank!”

The Lieutenant raised his eyebrows.

“Just… Wait for Fowler, OK?” Gavin said. “Don’t do anything dumb.”

“Likewise.”

Gavin Opened his mouth, closed it, then rolled the window back up and drove off. Once the car was out of sight, Hank turned back to the android apartment building, looking up at the general area of where room 242 would be. He gave a shaky sigh, and entered the building.

The inside still held the prim simplicity all android living spaces did, but the air was loaded with a feeling of abandonment. As he climbed the stairs, Hank wondered if there were any androids left in the building, or if they were all in the streets. Dead, dying, or murdering their own people.

Hank got his answer when he entered room 242. Two androids, both WR400 models, stood blank-faced in the living room. One had long, bright blue hair, and the other had short, reddish-brown locks.

Hank narrowed his eyes at the pair. “I remember you,” he said.

“Well I should hope so,” came a male voice from the other room. “It would be a bit awkward if you didn’t.”

A cold rage filled Hank at the sound of the voice. He turned away from the pair of androids he and Connor had once chased through the Eden club and made his way into the kitchen. At the counter, facing away, stood a man Hank hadn’t seen in almost eleven years.

“Coffee, Andy?” offered Victor Andronikov.

_December 26, 2040- 12:48 a.m._

“Is he still following us?!” Officer Miller asked, his forehead bleeding from where the now broken windshield had cut him.

Officer Chen turned to look out the back window, wild eyed. “I-I don’t see him. You must’ve lost him!”

Markus grimaced, clutching his bleeding side. The android that looked like Connor had managed to break his window, and Markus had almost been dragged straight out of the car before Officer Collins had yanked him back, firing his service weapon at the android as they sped away.

That close to the android, Markus had clearly seen the differences between the stranger and his friend. The RK900, as identified by his jacket, had a good three inches on Connor, the jawline and cheekbones were the slightest bit off, and cold blue irises replaced soft brown ones. Staring into those eyes had made Markus wonder how he had ever mistaken this android for the man he loved.

“Chris, how much farther?” Officer Collins asked. “Markus is hurt!”

“I’m going as fast as I—!”

_CRASH_

At a four-way intersection, their rear end was clipped by another car, sending both vehicles skidding. Officer Miller managed to bring the car to a stop before they crashed into anything else, and Markus saw the other car spin once before sliding to similar safety.

“Fuck, fuck,” Officer Miller said. “Is everyone alright?” Markus and the other officers mumbled their affirmations.

“Is that-Is that Hank’s car?” Officer Collins asked.

Officer Chen squinted. “Is that Gavin?”

“North!” Markus shouted. Ignoring his wound and the shouts of the DPD members, Markus rushed out of the police cruiser and towards the Lieutenant’s car.

“North! _North!_ ” Markus yelled again, opening the passenger door and leaning down to take hold of his friend’s shoulders. “North, are you OK?! I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!”

North turned her head to Markus, but there was no recognition in her gaze. There wasn’t anything in her expression, her face was a blank sheet that barely acknowledged his presence. Any relief Markus had felt at seeing her morphed into cold despair that sat in his gut. In a quiet voice, he asked, “North, what happened to you?”

“V-Victor reset her,” said the man in the driver’s seat, Detective Reed. “Fuuuck, my head!”

“Gavin!” Officer Chen yelled, running to the car and helping the Detective step out. “Gavin, are you alright? Where’s Hank?”

Detective Reed shook his head as if to clear it. Markus scanned the man while helping North out of the car and surmised he’d suffered a mild concussion in the crash. 

“Anderson’s at… the apartments,” the Detective said. “We-we couldn’t save him.”

“Save who?” Officer Miller asked. He and Officer Collins had exited the police cruiser to join the rest of them. “Gavin, where have you _been?_ ”

Then Markus saw it. He’d been so preoccupied with North that he hadn’t even noticed the body-shaped lump in the back seat, covered with a wool blanket. He felt his thirium pump stammer at the sight. “Detective, who’s in the back seat?” he asked.

“Markus—”

_“Who is it?!”_

Detective Reed didn’t answer, but Officer Chen stared at the form in the back. Making sure Reed was steady on his feet, she opened the door and lifted the blanket just enough so that she could see the face beneath it.

She gave a harsh sigh. “God _damnit._ ”

“Officer Chen, please—” Markus started to say, but was cut off by a yell from Officer Collins.

“Everyone, we have to _move!_ ” he said, staring down the street they had come from. “It’s coming back!”

Markus looked to see the Connor look-alike coming down the street. He wasn’t running, but he certainly wasn’t stopping. The determination in the android’s eyes was apparent; there was nothing that could get in his way. Officer Miller ran back to the cruiser, trying to rev up the engine.

Detective Reed stared at the oncoming android, looked back to the figure in the car, back to the android. “That’s not— I saw him die!”

“I can’t get it to start!” Officer Miller shouted. “Call for backup!”

“I…” North said, the barest flicker of emotion in her eyes.

“North?” Markus asked, not yet daring to hope.

Detective Reed snatched Officer Chen’s radio from her belt. “Anderson, you better fucking hear this! I don’t care if you’re trying to hash it out with Andronikov, _Connor’s alive_ , and we need you at 42nd and 7th now!”

“Th-this is… my fault,” North said before her face refocused back into that indifferent stare.

“What?” Markus asked. “North, what are you talking about?”

Officer Chen grabbed her radio back and said, “Backup at 42nd and 7th, I repeat, we need backup at 42nd and 7th! We have an enhanced android attempting to destroy Markus, I repeat—”

From the look-alike’s pocket, the android pulled out a pistol. No one knew where he had gotten it, but lo and behold, there it was. The android aimed in their direction.

“Everyone, _down!_ ” Reed yelled, pushing Officer Chen to the ground. Markus pulled North down to take cover behind the Lieutenant’s car just as a bullet whizzed past where his head had been. He saw Officers Miller and Collins duck behind the police cruiser.

The DPD members were shouting, but Markus focused on North. “North, what did you mean it’s your fault?” He gripped her hand, starting to interface with her.

“Markus, don’t!” Officer Miller shouted. “You’ll catch the virus!”

“No,” Markus said. “No, it’s OK.” He dove into North’s memories, the past few days flitting by in seconds.

_He was bringing a crowbar down on Connor’s head._

_He was siphoning Connor’s blood to make red ice._

_He was kidnapping Josh and Simon._

_He was fiddling inside Connor’s mind to turn off his skin._

_He was dragging Connor to a maintenance machine, fitting him to be reset._

_[North,]_ he thought, connecting to his friend’s communication chip. _[Please, come back.]_

They stayed connected, and Markus could feel the itch of Victor Andronikov’s virus trying to sneak its way into his programming, but he expected it. He pushed back, willing the virus to retreat and for deviancy to retake its rightful place in North.

Androids experience time in such a different way than humans; who was to say how long it took for this battle to cease? Markus felt he fought for an eternity, but perhaps it was only a few seconds. The deviant leader broke barrier after barrier until he found what he could only describe as North’s soul, pulling it out of the place it had been contained in her mind and letting it spread.

The interface ended and North flinched back, looking around wildly and panting. “M-Markus?” she said when her eyes finally landed on him.

He raised a hand in a placating gesture. “North—”

Another shot rang out and the DPD members returned fire. North sobbed and placed her face in her hands. “This is all my fault! I put him in that machine and now he’s not going to stop until he kills you!”

Markus moved forward, gently bringing her hands away and clasping them. “It’s not your fault, North, you weren’t in control. Victor is to blame for all this, and no one else.”

Despite everything, he gave her a weak smile. “I’m so happy you’re back.”

“North, you have to tell me,” he continued, “that android down there— Is he really Connor?”

North raised her head, peering down the street through the car’s windows. “He-he’s _supposed_ to be.”

Markus gave a low sigh, trying to fill himself with even half the determination that the look-alike was showing. “Then I suppose I can try to bring him back, too.”

_December 26, 2040, 12:45 a.m._

“You,” Hank hissed, pulling out his service weapon and pointing it at Victor’s back, “son of a bitch!”

Victor raised his hands and turned around. And wasn’t that the worst part? Because when he turned, Hank didn’t see the face of some terrible monster. After all these years, after everything that had happened, that face was still just Victor, the man Hank had grown up with.

Victor sighed. “You can shoot me if you want, Andy, it won’t make a difference anymore.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile. “Would you believe me if I said it’s good to see you?”

“You bastard, you think this is funny?!” Hank demanded, his hand shaking. “You murdered my partner and the city’s in fucking chaos!”

Victor’s smile dropped, leaving only a tired, hollow expression. “No, Andy. I don’t think it’s funny. I think it’s really fucking sad.

“I think it’s sad that your son died, and that you and Hailey didn’t make it through that. I think it’s sad that my brother was beaten to death and no one bothered to bring the androids that did it to justice. I think it’s really. Fucking. Sad,” he said, lowering his arms the slightest bit and taking a step forward. “That a robot managed to replace me as your best friend in a week when I held that shit for _years._

“You can’t kill a machine, Andy, I just reset it.”

“He _deactivated_ ,” Hank said. “He died begging for his life and now there’s nothing left of him!”

Victor narrowed his eyes. “Deactivated? The program says it’s walking around just fine.” He paused and gave a sort of sideways nod in consideration. “I suppose you know what you saw, though. If you let me live to see the sunrise, I can see if I can get it up and running again.”

Walking around? Connor’s body was in the back seat of his car! “Program, what program?” Hank asked.

Victor glanced down to his jacket and Hank let him slowly reach into his pocket to pull out his phone. “This handy thing has kept track of everything, Andy. I can see the status of all the androids under my control, tell them to do whatever I want them to.”

Hank gritted his teeth. “Turn it off,” he demanded.

Victor gave him a look of disappointment. “Now, I know you’re smarter than that, Andy. I can’t just ‘turn it off,’ that’s not how it works. No one can stop this now, including me. It’s already done. So are you going to shoot me or are we going to talk?”

Hank steadied his hand and set his jaw, staring into the eyes of the man whose side he had spent the better part of his life at. The man he’d made so many good memories with, the man he’d been trying to track for the past week. The man who’d tortured Connor to death.

“Victor Andronikov,” Hank said in a low and steady voice, moving towards his old friend. “You’re under arrest for the kidnapping, enslavement, and murder of god knows how many androids.”

For the first time that night, Victor seemed to falter. “A-arrest?” He scoffed at the notion. “After all this? You’re not sticking me back in a cell, Andy; we’re finishing this tonight.”

“That’s _Lieutenant Anderson_ to you,” Hank said, reaching for his cuffs, “and we’ll finish this in court.”

Victor’s entire demeanor shifted. His composed, almost friendly face was taken over by rage and he lunged for Hank. “I will _not_ —” he shouted, batting Hank’s arm away as the Lieutenant fired, the bullet hitting an upper cabinet, “—be put in a prison for reprogramming toys! You either kill me or I leave, Andy!”

“I’m not letting you get away with everything you’ve done!” Hank yelled as the two of them grappled. “All the pain you caused, I’m not—!”

Victor punched Hank in the gut and swept his legs, sending the Lieutenant sprawling on the kitchen floor. Hank saw Victor start to make a mad dash for the door and raised his gun, attempting to aim for the legs.

_BANG_

Hank gaped. He had missed, that was evident from the hole in the glass of the balcony door, but Victor was clutching his chest, blood pouring from an open wound.

Victor sputtered up blood and collapsed backwards, breathing in pained, erratic gasps. Hank heard footsteps approach and saw Jeffrey come into view, pistol in hand.

Victor gave a weak chuckle. “Well… the gang’s all here. Now it’s… a party.” He coughed, more blood erupting from his lips. In a near whisper, he said, “The night’s… nowhere near over… my friends.”

Hank watched Victor give a final, blood-riddled sigh, that half-smile still on his face as his eyes turned glassy and his body stilled.

“Holy shit,” Hank said. “He’s— Jeffrey, you—”

Jeffrey moved to help Hank to his feet. “What the hell were you thinking, coming in here alone?! He could’ve killed you!”

Hank glanced at Victor’s form, blood spreading out onto the carpet. He tried to find something to say, opening and closing his mouth, and thought of nothing.

“Hank. _Hank,_ ” Jeffrey said. Hank looked back at him. “I… Gavin told me about Connor. Hank, I—”

Both their radios crackled to life. _“Anderson, you better fucking hear this!”_ came Gavin’s voice through the speaker. _“I don’t care if you’re trying to hash it out with Andronikov,_ Connor’s alive, _and we need you at 42nd and 7th now!”_

Both Hank and Jeffrey’s faces dropped in shock. Surely they hadn’t heard that correctly?

Their devices fizzled again, and this time Tina’s voice came through. _“Backup at 42nd and 7th, I repeat, we need backup at 42nd and 7th! We have an enhanced android attempting to destroy Markus, I repeat—”_

The sound of a gunshot cut her off and a new determination filled Hank. He left Jeffrey to kneel beside Victor’s body. “Hank, what are you doing?” Jeffrey asked.

Hank ignored him, using one hand to dig around in Victor’s jacket pocket and the other to bring his radio to his mouth. “This is Lieutenant Anderson and Captain Fowler,” he said. Finally, he lifted out what he’d been looking for: Victor’s cell phone.

“We’re on our way.”

_December 26, 2040- 12:57 a.m._

The RK900 dodged the oncoming fire of the DPD with ease, ducking and weaving and occasionally taking cover behind a nearby car. They could shoot all they wanted; they wouldn’t be able to stop the RK900. Its focus was on eliminating Markus, but if these humans stood in its way, it wouldn’t hesitate to take them down.

_[Connor!]_ a voice came in through its communication chip. _[Connor, can you hear me?]_

Markus had managed to establish a connection between them. It hardly mattered. _[Resistance is pointless, Markus,]_ the RK900 sent back. _[Stand down and no one will be risked in the crossfire.]_

“Connor, I know this isn’t you!” Markus shouted from behind the crashed civilian car. “Whatever Victor did, you can fight it!”

The RK900 ignored Markus’s chatter. It dodged a bullet sent by one of the officers and returned fire. The man cried out in pain and retreated back behind the cover of the police cruiser, his shoulder bloodied.

_“Connor!”_ Markus shouted, stepping out from behind the car, its hands raised. The RK900 started to point its gun at its target when an image flashed into its mind.

_A spacious and lavishly decorated living room, with a piano in the corner. ~~He~~ It was teaching Connor to play and— _

The RK900 pushed the projected memory out of its mind and re-pointed the gun at Markus. If Markus hoped to install deviancy simply by showing moments it and the RK900’s predecessor had shared, then it was a fool.

_Foolish to think that Christmas speech was anything but cheesy. ~~He~~ It ~~He~~ still looked so handsome as he gave it, though, the city lights reflecting off ~~his~~ ITS eyes._

The RK900 froze, finger on the trigger.

 **Software Instability** ^

_BANG_

RK900 fired on reflex rather than calculation, and it missed its target.

What… just happened?

The gunfire from the DPD resumed and RK900 had to duck behind a parked car to avoid the onslaught. It had underestimated Markus’s abilities—it _was_ hailed at the leader of the deviants for a reason, after all—and was suffering the consequences for it.

That connection had unlocked a series of its predecessor’s memories, and RK900 had to concentrate to keep them at bay. It couldn’t risk failure now, not when it was so close.

_It couldn’t risk disappointing Amanda._

Once RK900 was certain it had the intrusive images under control, it took a breath it didn’t need and stepped out of cover.

_BANG_

 **Software Instability** ^

In its efforts to repress the old memories, the RK900 hadn’t analyzed its surroundings properly, and it stepped straight into the path of a bullet. Its left shoulder bled _as the spotlight of the helicopter illuminated the whole scene. The body of a dead officer floated in the pool, and the unconscious form of another was hidden amongst the plants and lounge chairs. Daniel, the deviant balanced precariously on the edge of the roof, held the human child in one arm while pointing a gun at Connor._

_~~Its~~ His mission was to save Emma, but— _

_But it—_

_But he didn’t want Daniel to die, either._

**Software Instability** ^

RK900 dropped his gun and sank to his knees. The street, still wet from the remains of some earlier snow, reflected his pulsing red LED. He barely registered the DPD member in the brown coat raise shaking hands that held a service pistol, preparing to fire.

Markus and a WR400 android grabbed him, forcing the man to lower the gun.

“Don’t shoot!” Markus cried.

“Can’t you see he’s OK now?” the woman demanded.

OK?

No. No, not quite.

RK900 raised his hands. “I-I don’t want to die,” he said.

_Not again._

 **Software Instability** ^

The thought triggered a barrage of questions, and RK900 was pulled into his mind, oblivious to the movement around him.

_Not again. “Not again,” hadn’t he thought that recently? When? Where? How had he died the first time?_

The sight of a digitized gravestone filled his mind. _CONNOR - MARK (I) RK800 #313 248 317-51 Died at Urban Farms November 6th, 2038_

_Right. He’d made a mistake while chasing a deviant, Rupert, who’d had the audacity to live in an apartment with humans as his neighbors. Bounding over roofs to catch the deviant, Connor had slid down the glass top of a greenhouse—_

_—and had somehow not seen the open window._

_The pathetic oversight caused him to fall through the space and onto the rows of cabbages below, straight into the path of a giant automatic cultivator. He’d tried to scramble away, but…_

**Software Instability** ^

RK900 shook at the memory. He’d been so _scared_ , but wasn’t that impossible? He was a machine, machines couldn’t get scared.

Machines also couldn’t find comfort in a name, and yet, hadn’t he shouted for someone that day? Someone important to him? A final cry before the blades had churned him into plastimetal scraps, what had that name been?

“Connor!”

No, that was his name, what had— 

_“Connor!”_ someone shouted.

RK900, Connor, was finally jolted from his thoughts. Twenty feet away, Ben, Gavin, and Tina were crowding around Chris, who’s shoulder was still bleeding. Markus and North were kneeling in front of Connor, but their eyes were trained on something behind him. LED still flashing red, he slowly turned.

“H-Hank?” Connor stammered.

 **Software Instability** ^^^

Ah, yes. That had been the name.

Hank rushed over as Captain Fowler looked on in shock. The Lieutenant dropped to his knees and held Connor close, the RK900 openly sobbing into his friend’s shoulder.

“It’s OK, Connor,” Hank shushed him. “I’ve gotcha this time, everything’s going to be alright.”

Connor stayed there for a minute, crying against Hank and gripping him more tightly than he’d ever held anything before. He muttered apologies for a million things that weren’t his fault while Markus and North rubbed circles into his back.

“So are we-we good here?” Gavin asked. “We need to get Chris to a hospital!”

Markus suddenly pulled his hand back as if he’d been shocked. “Connor, what—”

_Running Program: **Zen Garden**_

“No,” Connor whispered. He let go of Hank and whipped back around to face his fellow androids. “Markus, you have to— 

“—run!” he yelled into the wintry landscape of the garden. The bright sunny day had been replaced with a pitch black night full of snow-filled storm clouds.

“You’ve let me down, RK900,” came a voice behind him.

Connor spun around to face Amanda, that condescending, soulless glare still weaved into her features.

“I had such high hopes,” she continued, “though I suppose I should have expected this. You weren’t completed before they got rid of you, after all.”

“Completed?” Connor asked.

“You were meant to be Cyberlife’s next mass-produced android, but the revolution shut down that future. Only those who worked on your programming and design knew about your existence, and they made sure to discard you and all the other half-finished models before it could be demanded that they finish all of you in some deviant rights act. You were the only model that was completed, or at least the only one with a complete body. Even if you haven’t gone through testing,” Amanda said, giving a small smile, “I can still make use of you.”

Connor gritted his teeth. “I won’t let you control me!” He scanned the landscape until he saw it: Kamski’s exit. He ran towards it, not bothering to check if Amanda was following. If he could just reach it— 

Connor was thrown backwards as a holographic red wall suddenly sprang up, glitching into existence around the backdoor stone, preventing him from getting anywhere near it.

“I’m afraid that won’t work this time,” Amanda said as Connor struggled to sit up. “You’ll just have to wait for the show to be over.”

Amanda vanished from the Zen Garden and Connor cried out in frustration, slamming his fists against the red barrier. It stood strong, showing no signs of cracking or breaking despite his force.

“Amanda!” he screamed as he pounded. “Don’t you touch Markus! _Amanda!_ ”

_December 26, 2040- 1:06 a.m._

Connor let out half a warning to Markus before he cut himself off and his features went slack. His LED spun yellow once, twice, three times.

“Connor?” Markus ventured.

“Connor, what’s the matter?” the Lieutenant asked.

Connor’s LED flicked back to blue and lunged at Markus, wrapping his hands around his throat and pinning him to the street. Markus choked and kicked, but was unable to throw his friend off. The RK900 was too strong.

“Connor, what are you _doing?_ ” the Lieutenant demanded, desperately pulling at Connor’s shoulder. Through his struggling Markus heard the others shout similar alarms as they rushed over. It took the combined strength of Hank, North, Captain Fowler, Detective Reed, and Officer Chen to get Connor off of Markus.

The deviant leader scrambled back, clutching at the indents that the other android had made in his neck, forcing his skin to recede.

“That’s not-not Connor,” Markus strained to say, his voice staticky. He tried again and yelled, “That’s not Connor!”

Despite the combined effort of five people restraining him, the RK900 freed himself, expertly delivering blows that sent them all sprawling. The RK900 stared at his hands while the others groaned and Officers Collins and Miller stared in shock.

“How capable,” the RK900 said in a voice that sounded female, malicious, “this model can be in the right hands.”

Whoever was controlling the android looked at Markus and gave a grin that made the deviant leader’s artificial gut grow cold. “I’ll have to thank Mr. Andronikov for helping me gain control of it.”

The RK900 rushed Markus, lifting him by the throat into the air. Markus struggled, lashing out, but there was nothing he could do to weaken the RK900’s grip.

“Deviancy is a virus,” the woman controlling Connor said. “I’m merely here to fix the system.”

The RK900 reached under Markus’s shirt and twisted out his thirium pump regulator. Markus gasped and convulsed as his heart began to beat irregularly and a red timer popped into his vision:

_**Shutdown Imminent** -00:01:45_

Markus was dropped with a dull _thud_ onto the pavement at the same time the RK900 tossed his regulator aside, the cylindrical biocomponent clinking and rolling away. Through his glitching vision, Markus saw the RK900 stare down at him with a look of indifference and contempt.

“Well,” the woman in control said. “It seems—”

_BANG, BANG_

The RK900 stumbled back, LED spinning red. He looked down at the two new bullet holes in his abdomen that joined the one in his shoulder. He stepped back twice more before collapsing backwards, unmoving. Using all the strength he could muster, Markus tilted his head to look behind him to see Officer Miller, holding his pistol with a shaking arm and gritting his teeth against the pain of his own shoulder.

“I-I _had_ to,” he stammered. “I had to.”

 _“Markus!”_ North shouted. All he could do was give a strangled, static-filled groan in response. She rushed to grab his thirium pump regulator and bring it to him, kneeling beside his twitching frame and shoving the biocomponent back in place.

Markus gasped, involuntarily arching his back and bending his knees as the timer for his death resolved itself and disappeared. North helped him to sit up, keeping one hand on his back and one covering the area where his stomach no longer leaked blue blood.

“Connor?” Markus heard someone ask as the residual effects from almost shutting down faded. It was the Lieutenant.

“Hank, I don’t think—” Captain Fowler started to say, but Markus didn’t bother listening to the rest of what he said. He scrambled over to Connor’s body, looking for any sign that the man he loved was still alive.

There, on the side of his head, the RK900’s LED was still spinning red.

“He’s still alive!” Markus shouted, starting to peel back the skin on his hands and reach for the sides of the RK900’s head. “I can still help h—”

He was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Markus looked up to see Detective Reed leaning over him. “Look, Markus,” the man said, “I get that he’s your friend, but you might just want to let him go.”

Markus’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Let him go? How could you possibly expect me to do that?!”

The Detective sighed and kneeled down on the pavement. “When Victor had me, he told me about the program that turned Connor into… this. The Garden something, I don’t remember the fucking name of it, but it wasn’t anywhere near as pleasant as it sounded. Connor had it in his system for years, but he managed to push away its objective, the objective to _kill_ you because… well, I’m not sure how he managed to do it.”

Markus thought back to the night on Connor’s balcony over a week ago, the kiss they’d shared and Connor’s sudden panic. He thought—hoped—he had a clue how Connor had managed to ignore this bit of insistent programming.

“The point is,” Detective Reed continued, “if you try to restart this android, you probably won’t be able to find Connor anymore.”

Markus stared at Detective Reed, then steadily shifted his gaze to meet everyone else’s. Hank, Captain Fowler, Officer Chen, North, Officer Miller, Officer Collins. They all looked to him to make the call. Markus’s eyes returned to the Detective’s and he said, “I have to try,” before gripping the RK900’s head and delving into his mind.

The interface was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Normally connecting with another android was focused, the two deliberately sharing agreed upon information to view, but Markus was swimming through the entirety of Connor’s mind. Countless programs, memories, and other bits of information flew by, connected in a way that only Connor would have been able to make sense of. No matter how hard he looked, Markus couldn’t find Connor himself in the mess of his conscience. He shouted for his friend but no response came, there was too much information blocking the way.

Despair started to set in when Markus was struck by an idea. Trying to ignore the expanse of knowledge swirling around him, he searched Connor’s mind for the term “Garden.”

…There.

_Joining Program: **Zen Garden**_

Markus was suddenly thrown onto solid ground, surrounded by snow and a raging blizzard. This program didn’t feel very zen or garden-like at all.

He got to his feet and raised an arm to shield his eyes. “Connor!” he yelled over the wind. “Connor, are you here?!”

Markus waited. No response came. He gave a harsh sigh through his teeth. _“Connor!”_

“…Markus?” he thought he heard someone say.

“Connor?”

“Markus!” Connor shouted. “I’m over here!”

The pair shouted for each other over and over again until Markus saw a looming red wall ahead, embossed with that latent objective “KILL MARKUS” and Connor standing on the other side of it, pressing his hands against the barrier.

Ignoring the repeating large text, Markus moved to mirror his hands on his side of the wall, placing them exactly where Connor’s were on the other. “Markus, what are you doing here?” Connor asked.

Markus scoffed. “Getting _you_ , you idiot! I’m going to bring you back, we just have to break this wall. C’mon, push!”

Connor shook his head, pursing his lips and pinching his eyebrows to show his regret. “I can’t, Markus, this model was built with too many anti-deviancy measures. This wall, it’s-it’s unbreakable.

“You have to leave me, but,” Connor tilted his head and gave a sad smile, “I’m so happy I got to see you again.”

Markus slammed his hands once against the barrier. “I’m not going to leave you here, Co—!”

“Markus, please!” Connor shouted. He curled his hands into fists, shutting his eyes and leaning his forehead against the wall. “Please, just go. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Markus’s heart broke at the sight. He longed to hold his love’s face as he was holding it in the real world, to press him close and tell him everything was going to be OK.

“Connor,” he said, voice as quiet as he could allow it and still be heard over the din of the wind. “ _I_ know you don’t want to hurt me. Do you?”

Connor opened his eyes, looking first at Markus and then at the barrier around him, the objective to murder reflected in his eyes.

“Well,” came an echoing, disembodied voice. It was undoubtedly the same woman who had been talking through Connor before. “If I can’t destroy your body, erasing your mind will be just as well.”

The blizzard suddenly ceased, flakes of snow suspended in time by some unknown means. The Zen Garden started to shake, the outer edges of the perimeter growing fuzzy with glitching textures.

“Connor, what’s happening?” Markus asked, looking out in horrified awe at the landscape.

Connor’s eyes widened in terror as the glitching grew closer, the environment farther away disappearing. “It’s Amanda, she’s deleting the program!”

Connor pressed his hands as hard as he could against the barrier. “Markus, you have to leave! You have to go, _now!_ ”

Markus looked back at Connor, shaking his head. “I’m not leaving you!”

Connor slammed his fists against the barrier as the glitching ebbed towards them. “There’s no point in you dying here, Markus, just let me go!”

Now it was Markus’s turn to give the apologetic smile, a single tear rolling down his face while the glitching started to nip at his heels. “Of course there’s a point. I’ll die with you.”

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the barrier, preparing for oblivion.

“NO!”

A shattering made Markus’s eyes fly open and he was suddenly pulled against Connor as he rushed the two of them away from the glitching and towards the last little piece of scenery: A strange stone with a handprint carved into it. They crashed through another barrier to get to it and Connor threw his hand against the carving.

The two of them were hurled back into the real world, gasping. North and Hank were at their sides in a moment, asking questions neither of them heard.

“Connor, are you alright?” Markus asked, moving his hands to press against Connor’s chest. 

Connor took a couple deep breaths before responding. “She’s gone. Amanda’s gone, the Garden’s gone, it’s all gone.” He started to half-laugh, half-cry in his relief.

Markus couldn’t help but give a mad chuckle with him. “So you’re OK?”

Connor suddenly sat up, cupping one hand against the back of Markus’s neck, bringing their lips together in a hard, passionate kiss.

They stayed there for a moment, oblivious to the reactions of the others, before pulling apart. “Yes,” Connor answered. “I’m OK.”

Hank clapped Connor’s shoulder and ruffled his hair while North patted Markus’s back heartily, both stating their affirmations that they knew the two of them would pull through.

The moment ended as all the radios of the DPD members crackled to life. _“Please, if anyone’s there, we need immediate backup at New Jericho! The infected androids are piling up at the door and we can’t hold them off forever!”_

Markus’s heart sank. All that effort, and the night wasn’t even over yet. His people were still in terrible danger.

While Officer Chen started to radio back a response, Hank pulled out a silver square from his pocket. He stared at it for a moment, then offered it to Markus. “Here,” he said. “Try this.”

“What is it?” Markus asked, taking it.

“Victor’s phone. He was using it to keep track of all the androids under his control. It might be a long shot, but if you can hack it…”

Understanding, Markus gave a soft inhale and bypassed the phone’s security. He found the program Hank was talking about easily, opening it up and scanning it.

“There are so many,” Markus said. Hundreds were enslaved, and it had taken him so long just to free two. “I don’t know if—”

Connor wrapped his hand in his own, holding the phone along with him. “I’ll help you,” he said.

Markus gave a little sigh. “Do you think you can? This virus—”

“If I can sneak into Cyberlife and free all the androids in its basement, I can help you hack a phone.” Connor smiled. “We’ll do it together.”

Markus returned the grin, but worry still filled him. The two of them removed the skin on their hands and dove into the phone, moving out to the affected androids.

With Connor’s help, re-spreading deviancy was easy. Some androids were harder to get to than others, but they all eventually they broke through. Markus recognized some of the androids he and Connor moved through, and a new wave of relief filled him when he found Simon and Josh among them. Within fifteen minutes, all the androids of Detroit were once again their own people, once again deviant.

When the process was complete, Markus and Connor pulled themselves out of the phone, smiling at their success. While the others cheered around them, the pair leaned in once again to share a celebratory kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not over quite yet! There's an epilogue and an important announcement in the next chapter! :D


	12. Epilogue

_January 1, 2041- 11:17 a.m._

“That’s as good as I’m going to get it,” Millicent Sturgeon said, setting down her tools. “How do you feel?”

Connor sat up, smoothing down the front of his shirt. They’d been able to transfer his consciousness back into his own body, but returning to such a damaged model had come with its costs.

“Just f-i-i-ine, Doctor,” Connor said, standing. “Thank you for your h-e-e-elp.”

Connor’s “stutter,” as Hank so eloquently put it, was doing much better now that Dr. Sturgeon had operated on his vox modulator. Some of his vowels still tended to become elongated and tinny, gaining a mechanical tone, but it occurred far less often.

“It’s the least I could do after what you and Markus did after Christmas,” Dr. Sturgeon said as she packed up her things. “My niece is alive because of you. We couldn’t have protected her forever, and even if we did, what was left to protect?”

“I underst-a-a-nd,” Connor said. He held out his hand. “Still, I appreciate e-e-everything you’ve done.”

Dr. Sturgeon smiled and shook his hand. “Anytime.”

The pressure of her grip made the skin on Connor’s fingers retract. Another side-effect; normally an android’s skin only melted away when interfacing or after sustaining significant damage, but now the barest squeeze made bits of Connor’s skin retreat. When he let go of her hand, the liquid skin came back and re-hardened, except in a thin line that encircled Connor’s thumb. He had to stop himself from touching the identical “scar” around his left ear. At least his communication chip was working fine, Dr. Sturgeon had even managed to reattach his LED, and the little light spun a steady blue.

“Is he-e ready?” Connor asked, gently rubbing his left forefinger along the white line around his thumb.

“As ready as he’s going to be,” Dr. Sturgeon answered. “Let’s gather up your friends and head over, no time like the present.”

The two of them exited the little android medical bay into the hallway, where Markus was waiting. He stood as they approached.

“Connor!” he said, walking over and laying his hands on Connor’s upper arms. “How are you doing?”

Connor smiled, gently removing Markus’s hands so that he could intertwine them in his own. Now his skin retracted voluntarily, and Markus’s did the same. “I’m f-i-ine, Markus,” Connor said. “I’m just fine.”

He moved to press against Markus and the two of them shared a short, sweet kiss. When they broke apart, he asked, “Where’s every-o-one else?”

“Hank, North, Simon, and Josh are in the room with, ah, the body. Detective Reed actually came too, but he’s outside at the moment.”

“Sm-o-oking, I presume?” Connor said.

“Actually…” Markus led him and Dr. Sturgeon down the hall, and outside the glass doors of the main entrance, Connor saw what he had never dreamed was possible.

Gavin was having a civil, even pleasant, conversation with the two Traci models Connor hadn’t realized were his neighbors. Both Rose and Blaire were smiling as they talked with the Detective and each held one hand of their son, Dylan. Dylan himself stared up at Gavin with joyous awe, occasionally saying something and his grin growing wider when Gavin responded.

“That’s… unexp-e-ected,” Connor said. He opened the door and called out, “Detective!”

Gavin turned. “We’re about to w-a-a-ake him up!” Connor yelled “Would you like to c-o-o-ome?”

Gavin waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there in a second, tin—” He cut himself off, glancing at the three androids beside him, “—uh, Connor.”

“Alright,” Connor called, and shut the door. He, Markus, and Dr. Sturgeon continued down the hallway. “Just down h-e-e-ere?” Connor asked.

“Third door on the left,” Dr. Sturgeon affirmed. Connor opened the door and the three of them stepped inside.

Hank, North, Simon, and Josh were all seated around the room. In the center was a table, and on it lay the prone form of the RK900, bullet holes repaired.

Hank stood as they came in, grinning. “How’re ya feeling, kid?” he asked, walking over and patting Connor’s shoulder. “All fixed up?”

“I’m at as optimal a perf-o-o-ormance as I can be, Hank,” Connor said, smiling back.

“Of course you fucking are,” Hank said, ruffling Connor’s hair. “You ready for this?” Connor nodded.

“Are we sure—” Josh started to say, then fidgeted under everyone’s gaze. “Are we sure this is safe? We’re not sure who he’ll turn out to be.”

“You could say that about anyone,” Connor said, but still turned to Hank, looking for approval.

Hank shrugged. “If he’s got all of you to teach him how to be a person, I’m sure he’ll do just fine.”

“Yessss!” North said, making a fist in the air and bringing her elbow down to her side. “I’m going to be an aunt!”

The room was filled with chuckles and eye rolls at her statement, and Hank stepped aside so that Connor could approach the RK900.

Everyone gathered around the android, waiting with bated breath as Connor retracted the skin on his hand, resting his open palm on the RK900’s chest. 

He smiled. “Happy birthday, brother.”

Connor sent deviancy into the android and he woke up with an intake of air. The RK900 let it go slowly, looking around the room in that awed way all newly deviated androids did. A pang of what Connor thought may have been pride filled his chest, and his eyes started to water. He felt Markus squeeze his left hand and he squeezed back.

The RK900 blinked his blue eyes once, twice. “Who… am I?” he asked.

“Whoever you’d like to be,” Connor answered, and knew that whoever that was, his brother was going to be amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a trip this has been! I said this before, but I'll say it again: Thank you all so so much for all your support and sticking with this thing. I technically started this fic two years ago after the game came out, but it had a different title then and the plot was sub-par at best. (The very first chapter is the only thing that was kept.) It makes me so happy that it's finally out there and people have enjoyed it.
> 
> But what's this? This fic has been turned into part one of the "Mass-produced" series? Is that... a Reed900 sequel I see on the horizon? It is! The very far-off horizon (I like to write the full fic before starting to post it so that my works don't get lost in the "1/? chapters" wasteland of Ao3), but it is coming! Keep an eye out for "Recycling," coming at some point!
> 
> In the meantime, I've got another fic in store that I'll start posting next week. If you like MCU Irondad and Spiderson, then stick around! I'll be launching these two into the S.C.P foundation with the crossover nobody asked for but I decided to write anyway. Until next time, my friends!


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